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THE 



illiamVarren 
edition ii 

'ANDARD PLAYS _ 



WALTER H .DAKER & CO. 

Ky • HAMILTOM- PLACE 

BOSTON 



THE 

MERCHANT OF VENICE 



a Cometis in jFibe ^cts 



BY 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



T^e text employed is substantially that used in the performances of the 

late Sir Henry Irving^ but for some of the stage-business of 

this edition the editor is indebted to the admirable 

prompt-book of the Castle Square Theatre 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1907 



XWofCONGRCSsf 
J Uo(H«s Keceivad 






Sbakespea'^*"*' 



:t i5'90f THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 



f ic 7 

COPY 



Entry 
XXc,, NOi 

B. 



CHARACTERS. 



Shylock, a Jew .... 
DuKB OF Venice .... 
Prince of Morocco, suitor to Portia 
Antonio, a merchant of Venice 
Bassanio, his friend ; a suitor to Portia 
Salanio, "".... 
Salarino, "".... 
Gratiano "".... 
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica . 
Tubal, a Jew, Shylock'' s friend 
Launchlot Gobbo, servant to Shylock 
Old Gobbo, his father 
Prince of Arragon .... 

Gaoler 

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio 
Balthazar, servant to Portia . 

Stephano 

Clerk of the Court 

Portia, a rich heiress 

Nerissa, her waiting maid . , 

Jessica, Shylock'' s daughter . 



Drury Lane, Feb. 14, 
1741. 

Mr. Macklin. 
Mr. Winstone. 
Mr. Cashell. 
Mr. Quin. 
Mr. Milward. 
Mr. Berry. 
Mr. Ridout. 
Mr. Mills. 
Mr. Havard. 
Mr. Taswell. 
Mr. Chapman. 
Mr. Johnson. 
Mr. Turbutt. 



Drury Lane, Jan. 2b, 
1814. 
Mr. Kean. 
Mr. Pope. 

Mr. Powell. 
Mr. Rae. 
Mr. Barnard. 
Mr. Vining. 
Mr. Wrench. 
Mr. Phillips. 
Mr. Meredith. 
Mr. Oxberry. 
Mr. Butler. 



Mr. Elliot. 



Mrs. Clive. 
Mrs. Pritchard. 
Mrs. Woodman. 



Miss Smith. 
Mrs. Orger. 
Miss Povey. 



Magnificoes, Officers pf the Court, Maskers, Servants and others, according 
to the conditions of the production. 



COSTUMES. 

Costumes for so important and well-known a play as this should 
be supplied by some reputable costumer. Home made dresses and 
amateur archaeology in such cases as these are dangerous economies. 



ACT 


I. 


Scene i. 

" 2. 


ACT 


II. 


Scene i. 
" 2. 


ACT 


III. 


Scene i. 

2. 

" 3. 
" 4. 
" 5. 


ACT 
ACT 


IV.' 
V. 





SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. 

A public place in Venice. Full stage. 

Portia's Garden in Belmont. Scene in two. 

Same as Scene i. 

A street in Venice. Full stage. 

Another street in Venice. Scene in one. 

Same as Scene i. 

Portia's House in Belmont. Interior — full stage. 

A street in Venice. Scene in one, same as Act 

II., Scene 2. 
Same as Scene i of this Act. 
A street in Venice. Same as Scene 2. 
A room in Portia's house in Belmont. Scene 

in two. 
A court of justice in Venice. 
Another part of Portia's garden in Belmont. 

Full stage. 



Copyright, 1907, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



:t 



INTRODUCTION. 



The earliest mention of " The Merchant of Venice " is an entry by 
one James Robertes in The Stationers' Register, July 22, 1598, in 
which it is clearly implied that the play was then the property of The 
Lord Chamberlain's Company, of which its author was a member. 
The publication thus authorized is now known as The First Quarto, 
and is the earliest of the five sources of the text of this play that are 
known. The text found in the Folio of 1623 is a reprint of the second 
of the Quartos, entered by Thomas Haies, on October 28, 1600, an 
inferior text to that of Robertes, and clearly chosen by the editors be- 
cause it had been actually employed in the theatre and was thus nearer 
to its author. Their additions, chiefly matters of stage business, suffi- 
ciently indicate their plan of selection. The earlier text of Robertes 
contains no evidence of having been derived from an acting copy. 

The date of composition is doubtful. The first mention of the play 
by title is in Francis Mere's " Palladis Tamia" (1598), but in Hens- 
lowe's Diary, reprinted in 1845 ^7 ^^^ Shakespeare Society, appears 
the entry: "25 of aguste 1594 ne Rd at the Venesyon comodey . . . 
I s VJ d." Mr. Henslowe's habit both of spelling and of expression 
was illiterate, but it has been thought possible that in the above hiero- 
glyphic is recorded the first production of this play, ue being his cus- 
tomary abbreviation in such cases. Mr. Henslowe's returns from this 
venture were better than appears, the purchasing power of money hav- 
ing been many times greater in Shakespeare's time than now. The 
plot may have been derived from many sources. There is, however, in 
Gosson's *' Schoole of Abuse " (1579) a reference to " The Jew and 
Ptoleme, shown at the Bull (Inn), representing the greedinesse of 
worldly chusers and bloody mindes of usurers," a play in which the 
casket and the bond ideas, both existing antecedently in a great vari- 
ety of forms, are combined. It falls in reasonably with Shakespeare's 
easy-going habit of helping himself from the nearest and amplest dish 
to suppose him to have conveniently based "The Merchant of 
Venice" upon this play, traces of which, indeed, have been allowed to 
survive, by carelessness, in the text of its derivative. 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

What may have been the popular estimate of the character of Shy- 
lock in Shakespeare's time, or what may have been the manner of 
interpreting the character then in vogue, are equally unknown. The 
original actor of the part of Shylock was Richard Burbadge, but of 
him and of his performance it is only meagrely recorded (1618) that 
he wore in the piece a red w^ig. It is probable that his effect in the 
part was comparable to that produced by him in the Barabas of Mar- 
lowe — a hateful one of tragic poignancy and power. The modern 
conception of Shylock as a sympathetic character was probably as far 
from the mind of his creator as was the purely comic aspect that it 
took on later. The next actor of the part was Thomas Doggett, whose 
name appears in the cast of characters prefixed to the printed text of 
the so-called Lansdowne version of this play, first published in 1701. 
By this time it is quite clear that Shylock had become by custom a low 
comedy character. No account of Doggett's acting in this part sur- 
vives, but he was an habitual actor of humorous roles, and owing to 
the impossibility of treating the character as presented in Lord Laus- 
downe's version in any dignified way, ito seems probable that he played 
Shylock as a comic character. Our old friend Downes, the pioneer 
historian of the English stage, says of him in a general way: " Mr. 
Doggett, On the stage, he's very Aspectabund, wearing a Farce in his 
Face; his Thoughts deliberately framing his Utterance Congruous to 
his Looks : He is the only Comick Original now Extant ; Witness, Betty 
Solon ^ Nikin^ the/ew of Venice, etc." 

The Lansdowne version was adapted from Shakespeare's text by 
George Granville, Viscount Lansdowne, and while — to the credit of 
the audiences of its period — it does not seem to have been especially 
popular, it still held the stage to the exclusion of the pure text for 
nearly forty years. Lansdowne, under the impression that he was im- 
proving the play, added a prologue in which the ghosts of Shakespeare 
and of Dryden, crowned with laurel, hold discourse with each other, 
neither author doing himself much credit by this spectral return to the 
stage. The ensuing play presented selections from the lines of Shake- 
speare, mingled with dreary inanities of the adapter's own invention, 
and altogether omitted the characters of Tubel, Launcelot and Old 
Gobbo. Betterton played Bassanio in its original cast, and Mrs. 
Bracegirdle Portia. Doggett's successors in the part were Benjamin 
Griffin (17 14) and Anthony Aston (1722). 

The two great Shylocks of stage history are Macklin and Kean. 
The latter represents a great personal triumph ; the former not merely 
that but also a gratifying revulsion of popular feeling toward a great 



INTRO D UC TION. ^ 

author, rescued by the originality, intelligence and native force of a 
very remarkable figure in theatrical history from a degrading miscon- 
ception of nearly half a century. It was in 1741 that Charles Macklin, 
an Irishman who had dropped his native McLaughlin with his brogue, 
and had become an actor of good reputation in London, persuaded 
Fleetwood, the then manager of Drury Lane, to revive the piece. His 
insight had enabled him to perceive the dramatic possibilities of the 
part, so long submerged in the muddy deluge of the Lansdowne " im- 
provements," and he had determined to adventure the verdict of the 
public with his conception of the character. During the rehearsals of 
the play he was wise enough not to invite the inevitable opposition of 
a timidly conservative management by the least hint of his iconoclastic 
purpose. It necessarily appeared, however, that he was cutting loose 
from the established Lansdowne in the employment of the unmutilated 
text, and Mr. Quin, among other actor critics, went so far as to say 
encouragingly that he " would be hissed off the stage for his arrogance 
and presumption." Fleetwood himself, finally aware that some inno- 
vation was on foot, remonstrated with the stubborn Macklin, urging 
subtly that his standing as an actor might be destroyed altogether by 
the inevitable failure of such an attempt ; but the player, supported by 
a sounder good sense and a better judgment, persisted in his inten- 
tion, and the play was finally announced for the evening of February 
14, 1 741, with the inimitable Kitty Clive as Portia. 

When the night came the house was crowded in every part within a 
very few minutes after the opening of the doors. Some came to support 
the actor in his attempt, and some to oppose him with hisses. His fellow- 
actors were apprehensive of failure and inclined to be malicious and 
unsympathetic. The manager was vociferous in the expression of his 
fears and distress ; the feelings of Macklin, burdened as he was with 
the sole responsibility for this attempt, may be imagined. Cooke's 
" Life of Macklin" gives a most interesting and dramatic account of 
the event in detail. For present purposes it need only be said that the 
actor's reception in the part was cordial and his hearing a fair one, and 
that in the great scene with Tubal in the third act his final triumph 
was announced in thunders of applause so great that he was obliged to 
pause between the speeches to give them opportunity. His own words 
will best sum up the result of his and Shakespeare's triumph on that 
evening: "On my return to the green-room after the play was over, 
it was crowded with nobility and critics, who all complimented me in 
the warmest and most unbounded manner; and the situation I felt 
myself in I must confess was one of the most flattering and intoxi- 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

eating of my whole life. No money, no title, could purchase what I 
felt ; and let no man tell me after this what Fame will not inspire a 
man to do, and how far the attainment of it will not remunerate his 

greatest labors. By G , sir, though I was not worth fifty pounds in 

the world at that time, yet, let me tell you. I was Charles the Great iox 
that night." Tlie play ran twenty-one nights, a significantly long run 
for that lime, was repeatedly revived in that and later seasons, and 
firmly established Macklin's reputation. George II. is said to have 
been unable to sleep after seeing his performance of the Jew. It was 
of Macklin that Pope said, on the third night of the play, — 

This is the Jew 

That Shakespeare drew. 

Macklin dressed the part of Shylock for the first time with some 
attempt at historical correctness, wearing a red hat, and otherwise aim- 
ing to convey some flavor of the place and period, but his example had 
but small influence on his fellow-players. Even so late as his last ap- 
pearance Miss Pope, his Portia, wore the wig and gown of an Enghsh 
barrister of the period, while the Duke of Venice presented all the 
e.xternals of an English judge, and the other parts were dressed in 
contemporary street costume. Macklin is supposed to have been born 
in May, 1690. His last appearance on the stage took place on May 7, 
1789, in the part of Shylock, for his own benefit, at nearly one hun- 
dred years of age. His memory not unnaturally failed him, and Ryder, 
who was ready for such an emergency, finished the part for him. He 
lived eight years longer — until 1797. 

Thirteen years after Macklin's revival — October 30, 1754 — Sheri- 
dan appeared in the character at Covent Garden, to the first perform- 
ance of Portia by the great Woftington, and after him several comedi- 
ans followed in the footsteps of Doggett, but without venturing to defy 
the Macklin tradition: Shuter, the Gobbo of the Sheridan cast, to the 
Portia of Mrs. Hamilton, on May 3, 1759; King, the original Sir Peter 
Teazle, March 24, 1768, to the Portia of Mrs. Dancer; Yates, March 
27, 1770; Digges, at the Haymarket, August 24, 1780; Ryder, at the 
Haymarket, June 22, 1790, and Harley, at Covent Garden, May 12, 
1796. Henderson appeared in the character at the Haymarket, June 
II, 1777, and the great John Philip Kemble, at Drury Lane, to the 
Portia of Miss E. Kemble, January 22. 1784, but with no notable suc- 
cess. Elliston played Shylock at the Haymarket to the Portia of Miss 
De Camp, at her first appearance. August 28, 1797, and G. F. Cooke 
appeared in the part at Covent Garden, November 10, 1800, to Miss 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

Murray's Portia. Charles Young acted the Jew at the Haymarket on 
the occasion of Mrs. Glover's first appearance as Portia, on August 16, 
1809, and Stephen Kemble followed him at Drury Lane, October 5, 
1813, to the Portia of Miss Smith. 

On January 26, 18 14, at Drufy Lane Theatre, occurred the memor- 
able debut of the great Edmund Kean in this character. Engaged by 
Arnold, the then manager of the house, he came up to London full of 
high hopes, only to endure a month or more of delay, disappointment 
and humiliation while some dispute as to his prior engagement at the 
Wych St, house was being settled with Elliston, who claimed his ser- 
vices. Poor and friendless, his salary withheld after the first week, 
snubbed by his fellow-actors and advised by many on a hasty valuation 
of his mere externals, which were not impressive, to abandon a profes- 
sion in which he could never hope to succeed, he remained steadfast 
and confident. Finally he was offered a first appearance, but advised 
to make it in a minor character. He stood fast in his determination 
that it should be in Shylock or in nothing. Huddart, of Dublin, had 
recently failed in this same part, and Sowerby, another man banked on 
as a novelty, had not succeeded, so it was finally decided to give the 
little man a chance upon his own terms. He was only five feet five 
inches high , and hopes for him were in strict proportion to his inches. 
Nearly everything was against him : the supporting company shirked 
rehearsals, and when they came they rehearsed without interest and 
did not spare the new-comer criticism and even offensive comment ; 
but he who had borne much was able to bear more. The night of his 
debut was bitterly cold and the house was half empty and without any 
helpful enthusiasm. He wore* a black wig in the pirt — an unheard-of 
innovation. Yet he was received with encouragement and ended the 
act to significant applause. The second act went better and the actor 
warmed with his audience, . At the beginning of the third act the 
doubting actors were summoned from the green-room by the tumult in 
front to be witnesses of an unprecedented success. In a single even- 
ing Edmund Kean had taken a place high above the heads of them all 
with probably fewer circumstances to aid him and more to hold him 
back than any actor ever had in a similar case. It has been said that 
the life of an actor is less intrinsically dramatic in its course than that 
of most men ; Macklin and Kean seem to offer striking exceptions to 
this statement. 

After Kean, Shylocks multipUed too fast to be reckoned, Macready, 
who first played the part at Covent Garden May 13, 1823, to the Portia 
of Mrs, Ogilvie, was the first to make the Jew an old man. Samuel 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

Phelps, who had played Tubal to Edmund Kean in 1831 in a small 
town in the north of England, and had attracted his favorable notice in 
the character, made his London debut in the part of Shylock at the 
Haymarket, August 28, 1837, to the Portia of Mi.ss Huddart. Charles 
Kean, who, suffering from a chronic cold in the head, made Shylock a 
vegetarian by his inescapable mispronunciation of the line. " When 
you do take the ^eans by which I live " first appeared in the part June 
3, 1840, at the Haymarket; later, in 1858, he gave the piece a spectac- 
ular revival at the Princess's, with Mrs. Kean (Ellen Tree) as Portia. 
Farren, whose conspicuous leanness of person stimulated the gallery to 
obvious repartee in the scene of the pound of flesh, was another Shy- 
lock, and Dowton is notable as one of the few who utterly failed in 
the part. A long list of recent Shylocks is closed by the well-remem- 
bered performance of Sir Henry Irving, which was first given at the 
Lyceum, London, November i, 1879. '^^^ part has been played by 
women — among others, by Charlotte Crampton and Mrs. Macready. 

Portia has been acted by a long line of players more or less distin- 
guished, but few of which can be named. The Portias of the Lans- 
downe version were Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Bradshaw and Mrs. Barry. 
There is no record of any earlier- players of the part. Kitty Clive, 
Macklin's Portia, had the success of a popular favorite merely. She is 
said to have given in the trial scene an imitation of Lord Mansfield, 
which enables us to measure the value of her performance with some 
accuracy. Miss Macklin, the daughter of the veteran, whose highest 
joy it was to play men's parts, naturally found Portia to her liking, and 
played the part in support of her distinguished father at Covent Gar- 
den, April 13, 1776. A life-long difference between these two, father 
and daughter, resulted from a trifling difference of opinion as to a line 
in the trial scene of this play, in which neither would yield. Mrs. 
Abington played Portia for the first time in London at Drury Lane, 
November 5, 1768, having made her first appearance in the character 
in Dublin, January 7, 1760. The great Mrs. Siddons made her first 
appearance in London as Portia, to the Shylock of King, on December 
29. 1775- She was announced as "A Young Lady." and, as she her- 
self says, " was merely tolerated," and went back to the provinces. 
Twenty-eight years later (1803) she again appeared in the part as one 
of a strong cast embracing George Frederick Cooke as Shylock. J. P. 
Kemble as Antonio and Charles Kemble as Bassanio. A distinguished 
procession of later Portias is impressively brought up by that of Miss 
Ellen Terry, Mr. Irving's leading support, who first played the part to 
the Shylock of Charles Coghlan in 1874, 



IMTRODUCTION. 9 

"The Merchant of Venice" was the first play produced by the 
Hallams, who headed the first regular company to give theatrical per- 
formances in America. This performance was given in Williamsburgh, 
then the capital of Virginia, a village of two hundred or so buildings 
and perhaps a thousand souls, September 5, 1752. The Hallam Com- 
pany, just arrived from England on " The Charming Sally," acted in 
an adapted warehouse so near to the woods that the actors could and 
did shoot pigeons from the stage door. The orchestra consisted of Mr. 
Pelham alone, performing upon a harpsichord. Mr. Rigby, later the 
Bassanio, spoke the prologue. Mr. Malone was the Shylock and Mrs. 
Hallam the Portia. Miss Cheer played Portia in Philadelphia in 1766, 
and Mrs. Osborne in Annapolis in 1769. Mrs. Morris appeared in the 
part in Philadelphia in 1772 to the Shylock of Mr. Henry, described 
by Hallam as " a splendid amateur actor," and Mrs. Ryan in Baltimore 
in 1782, supported in Launcelot by one Mr. Shakespeare — an ama- 
teur, unfortunately, and not "consanguineous." Between the dates 
of these two performances theatrical prices had been high in Philadel- 
phia — fifteen dollars admission for a child, twenty dollars for a seat in 
the gallery, thirty dollars to the pit, and forty to the boxes — Conti- 
nental money. Mrs. Whitlock (EUzabeth Kemble) was the first " star " 
to make a tour of the United States. She played before George 
Washington in Philadelphia, and was engaged for four hundred and 
fifty dollars and a benefit to play a season at the Boston Theatre, in 
October, 1796, where she appeared as Portia among other things. 
The first Shylock seen in Boston was that of Mr. Hipworth, who pre- 
sented himself in the character at his own benefit at the Federal St. 
Theatre, June 17, 1795, to the Portia of Mrs. Snelling Powell, who had 
been reckoned in England as second only to Mrs. Siddons, and of 
whom George III. had approved. She was later on the salary list of 
the Haymarket Theatre, Boston, at forty-two dollars a week. It was 
at this house, situated at the corner of Tremont and Boylston Sts., 
that Mrs. Giles Leonard Barrett, the second Portia to delight a Boston 
audience, appeared in support of her husband's Shylock, on January 27, 
1797. She was a pupil of Macklin, and made her debut as one of his 
numerous Portias. A Mrs. Henderson played Portia in Charleston 
in 1796. 

The first performance of the " Merchant of Venice " in New York was 
given at the John St. Theatre in 1768. Henry J. Finn made his first 
American appearance in the part at the Park Theatre, January 16, 
1818. EdA\'in Forrest attempted it for the first time at the Bowery, 
July 23, 1827, but. he was far from great in the character, and plaved 



I o INTRO D UC TION. 

it but a few times. C. W. Couldock played Shylock at Castle Garden, 
September 6, 1852, the occasion being the centennial of the first Amer- 
ican production of the play. Mrs. Vickery was the Portia and Mr. 
Burton the Launcelot. James W. Wallack played the part at his own 
house December 9, 1858. Mrs. Hoey was the Portia and Lester Wal- 
lack the Bassanio. Edwin Booth first played the Jew in New York at 
Tripler Hall, February 11, 1861. He appeared in this character at the 
Haymarket, London, on September 30 in the same year, to the Portia 
of Mrs. Charles Young (Mrs. Herman Vezin), and made an elaborate 
production of the play at Winter Garden, New York, on January 28, 
1867, that ran for seven weeks. Matilda Heron, one of the innumer- 
able Portias of native growth, first appeared in the part at Laura 
Keene's Varieties, New York, May 8, 1863. Charlotte Cushman 
played Portia more than once, but it was only a rivet in her crown and 
not a jewel. 

In the year 1787 " The Merchant of Venice " fell into the hands of 
one of the innumerable army of mediocre German composers, Mr. J. A. 
Just, who set it to music in an opera that was performed for the first 
and last time in Amsterdam. The play was later turned into an opera 
said to have possessed considerable merit, by an Italian, Signor Petrella. 
The play has been acted a good deal in Germany, and is an established 
item of the German repertoire. It was played eighty-four times in 
1896 and sixty-two times in 1897 in that country. It was plagiarized 
by Cyrano de Bergerac (1619-1655) in his " Agrippina," and while it 
has never been acted in a French version, it has been more than once 
presented in Paris in English by English actors, notably by Edmund 
Kean. 

A Japanese version of this play was produced by a Japanese com- 
pany at the Bijou Theatre, New York, March 12, 1900. 

F. E. Chase. 
June 12, jqoj. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



ACT I. 



Scene I. — Venice. Set represents a public place. Back drop 
in four represents the Grand Canal with ships with 
colored sails in foreground at L. Sunshine on set and dur- 
ifig the action. Carriers laden with packs pass back and 
forward as if lading ships. One or two groups of sailors 
and gondoliers dress the scene up stage afid move about 
during action. Entrances marked with houses at both r. 
andl.. 

LIGHTS full up* 

{When the curtain is well up, enter, from r. u. e., Antonto 
followed by Salarino and Salanio. Antonio is a staid, 
bearded man of dignified bearing, wearing a long tunic and 
hat of rich black velvet. Salarino and Salanio are 
younger, and dressed ifi gay colors.) 

Antonio (as if replying to a reproach on his sad manner, as 
they come down). In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me 
That I have much ado to know myself. {Stops at c.) 

Salarino {at l.). Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
There, where your argosies with portly sail — 
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea — 
Do overpeer the petty traffickers 
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

II 



12 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

Salanio {at R.). Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind ; 
Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads ; 
And every object that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
Would make me sad. 

Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, 
Would blow me to an ague when I thought 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea, 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand. 
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs. 
To kiss her burial. Shall I have the thought 
To think on this-, and shall I lack the thought. 
That such a thing bechanc'd, would make me sad ? 
But tell not me ; I know Antonio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 

Ant. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
Upon the fortune of this present year. 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 

Salan. Why then you are in love. 

Ant. Fye, fye 1 

Salan. Not in love, neither ? Then let's say you are sad, 
Because you are not merry ; and 'twere as easy 
P'or you to laugh, and leap and say you are merry 
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Janus, 
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time ; 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect. 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare you well. {Passes behind An- 
tonio to join Salarino at l.) 
We leave you now with better company. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 13 

Salar. {saluting Antonio as he and Salanio move up tow- 
ard L.). I would have staid till I had made you merry, 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it your own business calls on you, 
And you embrace the occasion to depart. 

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo -and Gratiano at r. i e. Lor- 
enzo is the youngest of the three, Bassanio the most distin- 
guished and Gratiano the gayest. 

Salar. {greeti?ig them). Good morrow, my good lords. 
Bassanio {crossing quickly to l.). Good signiors both, 
when shall we laugh ? Say when ? 

(Lorenzo and Gratiano talk with Antonio.) 

You grow exceeding strange. {As Salanio and Salarino 

show by a gesture that they have business elsewhere^ 
Must it be so ? 

Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 

Exeunt Salarino and Salanio at l. 3 e. 

Lorenzo {crossing to l. c). My lord Bassanio, since you 
have found Antonio, 
We two will leave you ; but at dinner time, 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 

Bass, {at l.). I will not fail you. 

Gratiano (r.). You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
You have too much respect upon the world. 
They lose it that do buy it wdth much care. 
Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 

Ant. (c). I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part. 
And mine a sad one. 

Gra. Let me play the fool ; 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man whose blood is warm within 



14 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 

Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice 

By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 

I love thee, and it is my love that speaks : 

There are a sort of men whose visages 

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 

And do a wilful stillness entertain. 

With purpose to be dressed in an opinion 

{During this speech all the action up stage has ceased, and the 
sailors, porters a?id gondoliers who have dressed the scene 
move away to leave it free for the rest of the action^ 

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
As who should say, ** I am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark 1 " 
Oh, my Antonio, I- do know of these. 
That therefore only are reputed wise 
For saying nothing. 
I'll tell thee more of this another time. 
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye w-ell a while ; 
ril end my exhortation after dinner. 

Lor. {to Bassanio). Well, we will leave you then till din- 
ner time. 
I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. {Crosses to r.) 

Gra. {lijiking his arm in Lorenzo's). Well, keep me 
company but two years more. 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

Ant. Farewell. I'll grow a talker for this gear. 

Gra. Thanks, i'faith ; for silence only is commendable 
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. 

Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo at r. 

Ant. Is that anything now ? 

Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing — more 
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains 
of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff ; you shall seek all day 
ere you find them, and when you have them they are not 
worth the search. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ' 15 

Ant. {who has been gazing after Lorenzo and Gratiano, 
turns to Bassanio, and with a change of manner and tone 
from indifferejice to affectionate interest^ places his hands on 
his friend^ s shoulders and looks in his face). Well ; tell 
me now what lady is this same 

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage 

That you to-day promis'd to tell me of ? 

Bass, (returning Antonio's frank gaze). 'Tis not un- 
known to you, Antonio, v 

How much I have disabled mine estate 

By something showing a more swelling port 

Than my faint means would grant continuance. 

Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 

From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 

Is to come fairly off from the great debts 

Wherein my time, something too prodigal. 

Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 

I owe the most, in money and in love ; 

And from your love I have a warranty 

To unburthen all my plots and purposes. 

How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Ant. 1 pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 

And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 

Within the eye of honor, be assur'd {ivith an outward gesture, 
as he takes his hands from Bassanio's shoulders, as if offer- 
ing his friend everything he had) 

My purse, my person, my extremest means. 

Lie all unlocked to your occasions. 

Bass, {moving down r., after a momenfs pause). In my 
school days, when I had lost one shaft, 

I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight 

The selfsame way, with more advised watch, 

To find the other forth ; and, by adventuring both, 

I oft found both ; I urge this childhood proof, 

Because what follows is pure innocence. 

I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth. 

That which I owe is lost ; but if you please 

To shoot another arrow that self way 

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 

As I will watch the aim, or to find both 

Or bring your latter hazard back again, 

And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 



1 6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost, 
Than if you had made waste of all I have. 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
And I am prest unto it ; therefore, speak. 

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left. 
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages. 
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors*; and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
Oh, my Antonio, had I but the means 
To hold a rival place with one of them, 
I have a mind presages me such thrift 
That I should questionless be fortunate. 

WARN change- 

SIGNAL lights down. 

Ant. {reflects a mometit a?id then, coming down to Bassanio, 
places a ha?id on his shoulder affectionately). Thou know'st 
that all my fortunes are at sea ; 
Neither have I money nor commodity 
To raise a present sum ; therefore go forth, 
Try what my credit can in Venice do ; 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
Where money is, and I no question make 
To have it of my trust or for my sake. 

Exeunt together^ r. i e. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 17 

LIGHTS down for changfe. 

CHANGE set 

Scene II. — Lights up, disclosing a part of the garden in Por- 
tia's house at Belmont. Back drop in two represents a 
terrace with flowers and trees. A flight of stone steps leads 
up to it, and at L. c. is a practical st07ie seat on which there 
are some gay cushions and a book. 

LIGHTS full «p. 

Enter Portia at once at l. i t.., followed by Nerissa. 

Portia {with a sigh that is almost a groan as she drops into 
the seat). By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of 
this great world. 

Nerissa {standing behind Portia). You would be, sweet 
madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your 
good fortunes are. And yet, for aught I see, they are as 
sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with noth- 
ing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the 
mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but compe- 
tency lives longer. 

PoR. {shrugging her shoulders wearily). Good sentences 
and well pronounced. 

Ner. {coming down r. c). They would be better if well 
followed. 

PoR. If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
to do, chapels had been churches and poor men's cottages 
prince's palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to 
be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own 
teaching. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose 
me a husband. Oh, me, the word choose ! I may neither 
choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the 
will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father. 
Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse 
none ? • 

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men at 
their death have good inspirations ; therefore the lottery that 
he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver and lead 



1 8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

(whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you) will, no 
doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who you shall 
rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection 
towards any of these princely suitors that are already come? 

PoR. I pray thee over-name them ; and as thou namest 
them I will describe them ; and according to my description 
level at my affection. 

Ner. {as if listifig them off on her fingers). First, there is 
the Neapolitan prince. 

PoR. {with a grijnace). Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he 
doth nothing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great 
appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him 
himself. (Rises.) 

Ner. Then is there the county Palatine. 

PoR. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should say 
(striking an attitude in imitation of him), " An if you will 
not have me, choose." He hears merry tales and smiles 
not. I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he 
grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. 
I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his 
mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these 
two ! 

Ner. How say you by the French lord. Monsieur Le 
Bon? 

PoR. (quickly) God made him and therefore let him pass 
for a man. 

Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of 
Saxony's nephew ? 

PoR. (ivith a grimace of disgust). Very vilely in the morn- 
ing when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon when 
he is drunk ; when he is best he is a little worse than a man ; 
and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. An' 
the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go 
without him. 

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right 
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will if you 
should refuse to accept him. 

PoR. {ivith emphasis, as she goes to Nerissa)*. Therefore, 
for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish 
wine on the contrary casket ; for, if the devil be within and 
that temptation without, I know he will choose it. 



THE MERCHANl OF VENICE. 19 

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
lords ; they have acquainted me with their determination, 
which is, indeed, to return to their home and to trouble you 
with no more suit. 

PoR. {with a gesture of thanking heaven^ sinks with a sigh of 
relief into her seat again). I am glad this parcel of wooers 
are so reasonable ; for there is not one among them but I 
dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair 
departure, 

Ner. (^passing behind Portia). Do you not remember, 
lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and a sol- 
dier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Mont- 
ferrat ? 

PoR. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so was he 
called. 

Ner. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my 
foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 

PoR. I remember him well ; and I remember him worthy 
of thy praise. 

Enter Balthazar at l. i e. 

(To him.) How now! What news ? 

RING lights down fot changfe* 

Balthazar. The four strangers seek for you, madam; to 
take their leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a 
fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince, his 
master, will be here to-night. 

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart 
as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his 
approach. {Rising.) Come, Nerissa. {Placing her hand on 
Nerissa's shoulder. To Balthazar.) Sirrah, go before. 

Exit Balthazar, l. i e. 

Whiles we shut the gate on one wooer another knocks at the 
door. 

Exeunt, gaily, Portia and Nerissa, l. i e. 

STAGE darkened for chang^e* 



20 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Scene III. — Lights up to disclose same set as Scene i. Shy- 
lock enters /r<7»/ r. u. e., muttering to himself and fol- 
lowed by Bassanio. He comes down to C. and stands a 
moment^ while BASSAj<fio follows him to L. c. 

LIGHTS full «p* 

Shylock (leaning both hands on his cane and looking keenly 
at Bassanio). Three thousand ducats — well. 

Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shy. For three months — - well. 

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 
bound. 

Shy. Antonio shall become bound ^well. 

Bass. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? Shall 
I know your answer ? 

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and An- 
tonio bound. 

Bass. Your answer to that. 

Shy. {as if reflecting), Antonio is a good man. 

Bass, {sharply). Have you heard any imputation to the 
contrary ? 

Shy. {in a co?iciliatory to7ie). No — no, no, no, no; my 
meaning in saying that he is a good man is to have you un- 
derstand me that he is sufficient ; yet his means are in sup- 
position. He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to 
the Indies ; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath 
a third at Mexico, a fourth for England — and other ventures 
he hath, squander'd abroad. But ships are but boards, sail- 
ors but men ; there be land rats and water rats, land thieves 
and water thieves — I mean pirates ; and then there is the 
peril of waters, winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstand- 
ing, sufficient ; three thousand ducats — I think I may take 
his bond. 

Bass. Be assured you may. 

Shy. I will be assured I may ; and that I may be as- 
sured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? 

Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will 
buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 2 1 

and so following, but I will not eat with you, drink with you, 

nor pray with you. {Lookiitg off L.) What news on the 

Rialto ? Who comes here ? 

Bass, {turning to follow Shylock^s gaze). This is Signior 

Antonio. {Hurries offi.. to meet him.) 

Shy. {looking off l. as he remains alone on stage ; to him- 
self). How like a fawning publican he looks 1 

I hate him for he is a Christian ; 

But more for that in low simplicity 

He lends out money gratis, and brings down 

The rate of usance here with us in Venice. {Coming down 
C, reflecting^ as Antonio and Bassanio come on at l. to- 
gether in earnest conversation. He does not notice them as 
they come down l. c. and wait for him to give his decision?) 

If I can catch him once upon the hip, 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails. 

Even there where merchants most do congregate, 

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift. 

Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe 

If I forgive him ! 

Bass, {quitting Antonio and approaching Shylock ; stops 
at L. c). Shylock! 

(Shylock keeps on muttering^ 

Do you hear ? 

Shy. {without looking toward him). I am debating of my 

present store, 
And, by the near guess of my memory, 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. 
Will furnish me. But soft. How many months 
Do you desire ? {Looks up as if seeifig Antonio for the first 

time^ Rest you fair, good signior ; 
Your Worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Ant. {disregarding Shylock 's half servile manner; at l.). 

Shylock, albeit that I neither lend nor borrow 
By taking nor by giving of excess. 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 



22 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

I'll break a custom. (71? Bassanio.) Is he yet possess'd 
How much you would ? 

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And for three months. 

Shy. I had forgot. {To Bassanio.) Three months, you 
told me so. 
Well, then, your bond; and, let me see — {To Antonio.) 

But hear you ; 
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
Upon advantage. 

Ant. I do never use it. 

Shy. When Jacob grazed his Uncle Laban's sheep, 
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third. 

Ant. And w^hat of him ? Did he take interest ? 

Shy. No, not take interest ; not as you would say, 
Directly interest ; mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromised 
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied 
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, 
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, 
And m the doing of the deed of kind. 
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; 
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
Fall party-color 'd lambs ; and those were Jacobus. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest ; 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
But sway'd and fashion 'd by the hand of heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 

Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast. 
But note me, signior — 

Ant. {with scorn; aside to Bassanio). Mark you this, 
Bassanio, 
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul producing holy witness 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart. 
Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath 1 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



23 



Shy. {reflecting). Three thousand ducats — 'tis a round 
sum. 
Three months from twelve ■ — then let me see the rate. 

Ant. {impatiently). Well, Shy lock, shall we be beholden 
to you ? 

Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies and my usances ; 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug. 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. {Touching his 
yellow cap which by the laws of Venice all Jews were 
obliged to wear.) 
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well, then, it now appears you need my help. 
Go to, then ; you come to me and you say : 
' Shylock, we would have monies." You say so — 
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
What shall I say to you ? Should I not say : 
" Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
With 'bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
Say this : 

"Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
You call'd me — dog ; and for these courtesies 
I'll lend you thus much monies ? " 

Ant. {in anger). I am as like to call thee so again, 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; (for when did friendship take 
A breed for barren metal of his friend ? ) 
But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face 
Exact the penalty. 

Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! 

I would be friends with you and have your love, 



24 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me. 
This is kind I offer. 

Ant. This were kindness. 

Shy. This kindness will I show. 
Go with me to a notary ; seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, 
If you repay me not on such a day. 
In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are 
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated (hesitates^ as if seeki?ig what useless forfeit he 

ought for form'' s sake to ?iame) : for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Ant. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a bond, 
And say there is- much kindness in the Jew. 

Bass, {quickly ; i?t some alarm). You shall not seal to such 
a bond for me, 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 

Ant. {gaily). Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it ; 
Within these two months, that's a month before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shy. {casti?tg tip his eyes). O father Abraham, what these 
Christians are 1 
Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others 1 {To Bassanio.) Pray, you, tell 

me this : 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
As flesh of muttons, beefs or goats. I say 

WARN curtain. 

To buy his favor I extend this friendship. 

If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu. {Starts to go up stage 

toward l.) 
And for my love I pray you wrong me not. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



25 



Ant. (staying him). Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this 

bond. 
Shy. {up c). Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
Give him direction for this merry bond, 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight ; 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently 
I will be with you. 

Exit, L. u. E. 

Ant. {with a laughing gesture of farewell). Hie thee, gen- 
tle Jew. 
{Turning back to Bassanio, who stands sadly at l. c). This 
Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind. 
Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

RING cwtaim 

Ant. Come on ; in this there can be no dismay ; 
My ships come home a month before the day. 

Exeunt together, Antonto with his ann thrown over Bassanio's 
shoulder, their moods quite changed — Antonio gay, Bas- 
sanio depressed. 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



Scene I. — Street beside a bridge over one of the smaller canals 
in Venice. The canal and street run obliquely from L. 2 E. 
to R. u. E. Practical bridge crosses the canal from R. 3 E. to 
L. u. E. Practical steps at r. Entrances at r. i e. and 
L. I E. 071 stage, L. u. E. over the bridge, and for gondolas 
by canal in l. 2 e. and R. u. E. At l., between first en- 
trance and bridge, is Shylock 's house. A wide, low door 
with one step gives entrance to it, and over the door is a 
small window and balcony. 

LIGHTS full up- 



26 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

Enter LAUNCELOxyr^w house at l. 

Launcelot {coming to c. and lookmg ruefully at the house, 
as he rubs his head in perplexity). Certainly my conscience 
would serve me to run from this Jew, my master. The fiend 
is at my elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, '^ Gobbo, Laun- 
celot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Laun- 
celot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away." My 
conscience says, " No ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take 
heed, honest Gobbo." Or, as aforesaid, " Honest Launcelot 
Gobbo, do not run ; scorn running with thy heels." Well, 
the most courageous fiend bids me pack. "Via! " says the 
fiend. "Away!" says the fiend. "For the heavens, rouse 
up a brave mind," says the fiend, " and run." Well, my 
conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very 
wisely to me, " My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest 
man's son" -^ or, rather, an honest woman's son, for indeed 
my father did something smack, somethmg grow to ; he had 
a kind of taste. Well, my conscience says, " Launcelot, 
budge not." " Budge," says the fiend. "Budge not," says 
my conscience. "Conscience," says I, "you counsel well; 
fiend," says I, "you counsel well." To be ruled by my 
conscience, I should stay with the Jew, my master, who (God 
bless the mark !) is a kind of devil. And to run away from 
the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your 
reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the 
very devil incarnal, and, in my conscience, my conscience is 
but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay 
with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel ; I 
will run, fiend. My heels are at your command ; I will run. 

Gobbo {outside, at r.). Master young man, you ; I pray 
you which is the way to master Jew's ? 

Laun. {aside). Oh, heavens, this is my true begotten 
father I who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, 
knows me not. I will try confusions with him. 

Enter Old Gobbo at r., with a basket on his arm and guiding 
himself with a stick. 

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you which is the 
way to master Jew's ? 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 27 

Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, 
but at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the 
very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly 
to the Jew's house. 

Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can 
you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, 
dwells with him or no ? 

Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot? {Aside.) 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of 
young master Launcelot ? 

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son ; his father, 
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God 
be thanked, well to live. 

Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of 
young master Launcelot. 

Gob. Your Worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 

Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 
you ; talk you of young master Launcelot. 

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot ; talk not of master Laun- 
celot, father ; for the young gentleman (according to fates 
and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and 
such branches of learning) is, indeed — deceased ; or, as you 
would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Gob. Marry, heaven forbid ! the boy was the very staff 
of my age, my very prop. 

Laun. {aside). Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 
staff or a prop ? {To Gobbo.) Do you know me, father ? 

Gob. Alack the day ! I know you not, young gentleman ; 
but, I pray you, tell me is my boy (heaven rest his soul 1) 
alive or dead ? 

Laun. Do you not know me, father ? 

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind 1 I know you not. 

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes you might fail 
of the knowing me ; it is a wise father that knows his own 
child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. 
{Gets slowly down on his knees in front <?/" Gobbo, with his back 
to him^ and rolling up his eyes.) Give me your blessing ; 
truth will come to light ; murder cannot be hid long ; a man's 
son may, but in the end truth will out. 

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are not 
Launcelot, my boy. 



28 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but 
give me your blessing. I am Launcelot — your boy that was 
— your son that is — your child that shall be. 

Gob. {confused and half sobbing childishly). I cannot think 
you are my son. 

Laux. {with a co?nic start, looking up sideways at the old 
man). I know what I shall think of that ; but I am Laun- 
celot, the Jew's man ; and I am sure that Marjory, your wife, 
is my mother. 

Gob. Her name is Marjory, indeed. I'll be sworn if 
thou be Launcelot thou art mine own flesh and blood. 
(Launcelot with a sigh takes off his cap and the old man falls 
tofumblifig the back of his head, thinki?tg it is his face, to Laun- 
celot's glee and the old ma?i^s co^fttsion.) Lord, worshipped 
might he be ! what a beard hast thou got ! Thou hast more 
hair on thy chin than Dobbin, my phill-horse, has on his 
tail. 

Laun. It would seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
backward. {Turns about.) I am sure he had more hair of 
his tail than I tave of my face when I last saw him. (/Rising.) 

Gob. (r.). Lord ! how art thou changed ! How dost thou 
and thy master agree ? I have brought him a present. 
{Showi7ig his basket.) How 'gree you now ? 

Laun. (l.). Well, well ; but for mine own part, as I have 
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run 
some ground. My master's a very Jew. Give him a pres- 
ent ? Give him a halter I I am famished in his service ; 
you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. (Takes 
Gobbo's hand and rubs it up and down his ribs.) Father, I 
am glad you are come. Give me your present to one mas- 
ter Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve 
not him, I will run as far as heaven has any ground. {Looks 
off R. and claps his ha?ids to his knees.) Oh, rare fortune 1 
here comes the man I {Crosses further to L. with Gobbo, as 
Bassanio enters at r. with Leonardo and a second se?i.'ant, 
to whom he is giving orders. They stop at R. c. Launcelot 
gets behind Gobbo and begins pushing him toward Bassanio. 
The old man holds back.) To him, father, for I am a Jew if I 
serve the Jew any longer. 

Bass, {to servant). You may do so, but let it be hasted, 
that supper be ready at the furthest by five o'clock. {Gives 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 29 

him letters^ See these letters delivered, put the liveries to 
making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. 

Exit servant at R. i e. 

Laun. {pushing Gobbo forward). To him, father. 

Gob. {to Bassanio). Heaven bless your Worship. 

Bass, {turning). Gramercy 1 would'st thou aught with 
me ? 

Gob. {showing Launcelot). Here'is my son, sir ; a poor 
boy — 

Laun. {swinging the old man away and taking his place, hat 
in hand). Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man ; that 
would, sir — as my father shall specify — {Swings Old 
Gobbo in front of him again.) 

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to 
serve — 

Laun. {repeating former action and taking the front place 
again himself). Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve 
the Jew, and I have a desire — as my father shall specify — 
[Swings Gobbo forward again.) 

Gob. His master and he, saving your Worship's rever- 
ence, are scarce cater-cousins. 

Bass, {between laughter and impatience). One speak for 
both ; what would you ? 

Laun. {coming forward). Serve you, sir. 

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtained thy suit ; 
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day 
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment, 
To leave a rich Jew's service to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
master Shylock and you, sir ; you have the grace of God, sir, 
and he hath enough. 

Bass. Thou speakest it well. Go, father, with thy son ; 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out. {To Leonardo.) Give him a livery 
More guarded than his fellows'. See it done. {Takes his 
tablet and writes^ 

Laun. {strutting and dragging his father to L.). Father, in. 



30 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

I cannot get a service, no; I have ne'er a tongue in my 
head ? Well ! {^Stopping at l. and reading his palm, after 
having carefully wiped it.) Well — If any man in Italy 
have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book, 
I shall have good_ fortune. (^Tracing a line on the palm of his 
left hand with the forefijiger of his right.) Go to, here's a 
simple line of life ! here's a small trifle of wives. Alas I fif- 
teen wives is nothing 1 Eleven widows and nine maids is a 
simple coming-in for one man ; and then to 'scape drowning 
thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather 
bed — here are simple 'scapes 1 Well, if fortune be a 
woman, she's a good wench for this gear. (Taking Gobbo 
once more by the arm.) Father, come ; I'll take my leave of 
the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 

Exeunt Launcelot and Gobbo at l. into house. 

Bass, {giving Leonardo the paper he has written). I pray 
thee, good Leonardo, think on this ; 
These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, 
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
My best-esteem'd acquaintance ; hie thee, go. 

Lorenzo mounts steps to cross the bridge and exits at l. u. e. 
Bassanio exits r. i e. On the bridge Leonardo meets 
Gratiano, ivho enters at l. u. e. 

Gra. {at extreme l. as Leonardo greets hi??i). Where is 
your master ? 

Leonardo {poi?iting off at r.). Yonder, sir, he walks. 

Exit -L. from bridge. 

Gra. (at centre of bridge, calling offR). Signior Bassanio ! 

Enter Bassanio at r. 

Bass. Gratiano 1 {Comes to c.) 
Gra. I have a suit to you. {Comes doian.) 
Bass. (l. c). You have obtain'd it. 

Gra. (r. c). You must not deny me ; I must go with you 
to Belmont. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 31 

Bass. Why, then, you must ; but hear thee, Gratiano ; 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice — 
Parts that become thee happily enough, 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults. 
But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
Something too liberal ; pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit, lest, through thy wild behavior 
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to, 
And lose my hopes. 

Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me. 

If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes {covers his 

face with his hat ) 
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say {crosses his hands on his 

breast and casts up his eyes), Amen ; 
Use all the observance of civility, 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night ; you shall not gauge me 
By what we do to-night. 

Bass. No, that were pity ; 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment ; but fare you well, 
I have some business. 

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ; 
But we will visit you at supper-time. 

Exeunt, Bassanio at r. i e., ajtd Gratiano over the bridge 

to L. 

Enter Jessica a7id LAUNCELOT/r^/^ house at l. 

Jessica {coming to c). I am sorry thou wilt leave my 
father so ; 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 



32 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest. 

RING ligfhts down for change* 

Give him this letter ; do it secretly, 

And so farewell ; I would not have my father 

See me in talk with thee. 

Laun . Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful 
Pagan — most sweet Jew ! If a Christian did not play the 
knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu 1 
these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; 
adieu 1 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. 

• Exit Launcelot to r. 

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be ashamed to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. Oh, Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 
Become a Christian and thy loving wife. 

Exit into house, l. 

LIGHTS down. 

CHANGE set. 

Scene II. — Scene in one. A narrow street in another part of 
Venice. Perspective of narrow ca?ial and bridge on drop 
in first grooves 

LIGHTS up. 

Enter at once from l. i e.. Gratia no, Lorenzo, Salarino 
a?id Sal AX 10. 

LoR. (l.). Nav we will slink away in supper-time. 
Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
All in an hour. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 33 

Gra. (r.). We have not made good preparation. 

Salar. (r. c). We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 

Salan. (l. c). 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly or- 
der'd, 
And better, in my mind, not undertook. 

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock ; we have two hours 
To furnish us. 

Enter Launcelot at r. i e. with a letter, Lorenzo sees him 
and crosses to him at once. 

Lor. Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 

Laun. (offering letter). An it shall please you to break up 
this, it shall seem to signify. 

Lor. (takiftg the letter). I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a 
fair hand. 
And whiter than the paper that it writ on 
Is the fair hand that writ. {Goes r.) 

Laun. By your leave, sir. 

(Lorenzo reads the letter.) 

Lor. (to Launcelot). Whither goest thou ? 

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup 
to-night with my new master the Christian. (Follows Lor- 
enzo over to R., as if waiting for a tip.) 

Gra. (coming down c. and beckoning Salanio and Salarino 
to follow him ; in a whisper to them). Love news, i' faith I 

(Gratiano comes down to l. of Launcelot and behind him. 
Salanio comes down to l. of Gratiano. Salarino re- 
mains up c.) 

Laun. (with a cough). By your leave, sir. 

Lor. (reminded of 1jAUTS!Cklot, and stuffing letter in his belt). 
Hold here 1 take this. (Gives him a coin or ring?) Tell gen- 
tle Jessica I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 

(Launcelot bows to Lorenzo, and in so doing bumps into 
Gratiano, who is behind him. He backs around in front 
of him, bowing humbly and in a wheedling way, as if sug- 



34 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

gestmg a tip, which Gratiano gives him. Iji bowing him- 
self back to L. from Gratiano he bumps ijito Salanio, with 
whom he has same business. Meanwhile Gratiano runs 
round behind and stands back to Launcelot as he backs 
aivayfrom Salanio, so that he bumps him again. This 
may be repeated ad libitum, introducifig also Salarino 
a?td Lorenzo if desired, until Launcelot begins to sus- 
pect the trick. Then, instead of bumpi?ig into Gratiano, 
who should recur for this busi?iess, he suddenly turns upon 
him, thrusts his tc7igue in his cheek, throws his cap on his 
head impude?itly, and exits l. ijito house. All laugh.) 

Lor. (r. c). Will you prepare you for this masque 
to-night ? 
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 

Salan. And so will I. 

Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 

Salar. 'Tis good we do so. 

Exeunt Salarino and Salanio at r. 

RING lights down for change* 

Gra. (r. c). Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 

Lor. (l. c). I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's house ; 
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with ; 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake ; 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot 
Unless she do it under this excuse. 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest ; 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. 

Exeunt, r. i e. LIGHTS down* 

CHANGE set 



THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 



35 



Scene III. — Same set as Scene i of this Act — night. Dark- 
ness on bridge and a few lights on canal. As scene opens ^ a 
gondola bearing four people crosses stage under bridge fro^n 
L. to R., and the soujid of a mandolin a fid low murmurs of 
song. Several masked people with laughter cross the bridge 
and go offiL. and l. A momefifs silence and then the door 
to Shylock's house opens and Shylock enters, followed 
by Launcelot. 

LIGHTS thtee-quartefs down* 

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, 
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio. 
{Turns toward house and calls ^ What, Jessica ! {To Laun- 
celot.) Thou shalt not gormandize 
As thou hast done with me. {Calls again.) What, Jessica ! 
{To Launcelot.) And sleep and snore and rend apparel 

out. {Calls agai7i.) 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 

Laun. {calli?ig). Why, Jessica! 

Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do 
nothing without bidding. 

Enter Jessica /r<?;;/ /^(7z^j-^. 

Jes. {at door). Call you? What is your will? {Comes 
down.) 

Shy. (c). I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. 
There are my keys. {Gives keys.) But wherefore should 

I go? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me. 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. I am right loath to go ; 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money bags to-night. 

Laun. (r.). I beseech you, sir, go; my young master 
doth expect your reproach. 

Shy. So do I his. 

Laun. And they have conspired together. I will not 
say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for 



36 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last, 
at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash 
Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. 

Shy. {to Launcelot). What ! are there masques ? {To 
Jessica.) Hear you me, Jessica. 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife. 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces, 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements; 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. By Jacob's staff I swear 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night ; 
But I will go. {To Launcelot.) Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. {Crosses toward house. Jessica com^s 
down R.) 
Laun. I will go before, sir. (Launcelot 

crosses behind ]^ssiCK and speaks over her shoulder^ 
Mistress, look out at window for all this ; 

There will come a Christian by 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. 

Exit Launcelot over bridge to l. 

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 

Jes. His words were. Farewell, mistress ; nothing else. 

Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder. 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat ; drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica {puts his hand on her 

head as if in blessing), go in 1 
Perhaps I will return immediately 1 
Do as I bid you. (Jessica goes toward house.) 
Shut doors after you. Fast bind, fast find ; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. 

Exit Shylock, slowly, over the bridge. Jessica watches him 
out of sight. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



37 



Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crest, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. 

Exit Jessica into house, l. 

Enter Salanio, Gratiano and Salarino from l. on bridge, 
encountering on bridge a group of masks, A little parley 
and laughter, during which time a gondola passes under the 
bridge from l. to R., and there are sounds of music. When 
that dies away the three men are left alone, laughing, on the 
bridge^ 

Gra. (^pointing to Shylock's house). This is the pent- 
house under which Lorenzo 
Desir'd us to make stand. 

Salar. His hour is almost past. 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Salar. Oh, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new made than they are wont 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 

Gra. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that are 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 

{They descend from the bridge. As they turn toward the house, 
Lorenzo enters in gondola. As he steps ashore he looks 
toward the window a moment. A light appears in window 
over door.) 

Salan. Here comes Lorenzo. 

Lor. (in a whisper). Sweet friends, your patience for my 
long abode ; 
Not I but my affairs have made you wait. 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long for you, then. Approach ; 

{They all approach the house, Gratiano, Salarino and Sala- 
nio keeping in the shade. Sounds of song heard off at r.) 



38 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Here dwells my father Jew. {Claps his hands three times and 
then speaks softly^ Ho 1 Who's within ? 

(The window opens ^ and Jessica in boy^s dress enters 07i the 

balcony^ 

Jes. {leaning over the balcony). Who are you? Tell me, 
for more certainty, 
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 

Lor. Lorenzo and thy love. 

Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed ; 
For who love I so much ? And now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 

Jes. Here, catch this casket. {Throws casket^ which 
Lorenzo catches and passes to Gratiano.) It is worth 
the pains. * 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. 
For I am much asham'd of my exchange ; 
But love is blind and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 

Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. 
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
And I should be obscur'd. 

Lor. So are you, sweet, 

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway. 
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast. 

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. 

Exits from balcojiy, closing window ; light disappears. 

WARN curtain. 
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 39 

Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily, 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
And true she is, as she hath proved herself ; 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

MUSIC of L 

{Music, during which a band of masks cross the bridge. Just 
before the end the door opens and Jessica appears. Lor- 
enzo goes to meet her at door.) 

What, art thou come ? (Throws his mantle about her.) On, 

gentlemen — away ! 
Our masking mates by this time for us stay. 

RING curtain. 

{They all go up steps and over the bridge amidst another burst 
of song ^ as another gondola passes under the bridge^ 

CURTAIN. 

Note. — In Henry Irvi?ig^s version, when the curtain was 
called on this picture, it showed Shylock, lantern in hand, 
returning to his deserted house. He crossed the bridge, de- 
scended the steps, crossed to his door and, at first confidently, 
then Jiervously, rapped with the knocker as the curtain fell. 



ACT in. 



Scene I. — The set represents a magnificent hall in the house of 
Portia, at Behnont. The back of the room is composed 
of a row of colored columns through which one sees the ter- 
raced garden ivith trees, flowers and fountains. At l. is a 
sort of alcove, raised by three broad, shallow steps. This 
alcove, opening to the audience obliquely, is magnificently 
draped, and within stands a sort of altar on which are 
placed three caskets which hold Portia's fate. When 



40i THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

scene opens curtains coficeal it. About the room are statues 
and rich furniture. As the curtai?i rises a procession 
enters from l. u. e., consisting of the followers of the 
Prince of Morocco and the household of Portia, who 
is led in by the Prince himself. Portia is followed 
closely by Nerissa a7id a group of Pages. 

LIGHTS full up. 

Morocco {at c, addressing Portia). Mislike me not for 
my complexion, 
The shadow 'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbor and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
Where Phcebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose 'blood is reddest, his or mine. 

PoR. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. 
But if my father had not scanted me, 
And hedg'd me by his wit to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by that means I told you, 
Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair 
As any comer I have looked on yet 
For my affection. 

MoR. Even for that I thank you ; 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
To try my fortune. 

PoR. {to her Pages). Draw aside the curtains, and dis- 
cover 
The several caskets to this noble Prince. 

{The Pages draw back the curtain. Then Attendants group 
themselves as if interested. To Morocco.) 

Now make your choice. 

MoR. {bowing low over Portia's hand^ turns toward the cas- 
kets and sloivly mounts the steps to examine them. Takes 
up first). The first, of gold, who this inscription bears ; 



I 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



41 



*' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 

{Puts it down.) 
{Takes up second^ The second, silver, which this promise 

carries : 
'' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." 

{Pauses, then puts it down.) 
{Takes up third.) This third, dull lead, with warning all as 

blunt : 
" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
{To Portia, who has seated herself at c.) How shall I know 

if I do choose the right ? 
PoR. {who steadfastly, with an attempt at unconcern, has 

watched each movement as if afraid to breathe and by that 

breath give him the proper cue). The one of them con- 
tains my picture, Prince ; 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

MoR. {turning back to caskets, still holding the leaden one in 

his hands). Some god direct my judgment ! Let me 

see, 
I will survey th' inscriptions back again. 
What says this leaden casket ? {Peads.) 
*' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 

( Ponders.) 
Must give — for what ? For lead ? Hazard for lead? 
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all ^ 

Do it in hope of fair advantages ; 
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. {Puts down 

leaden casket.) 
What says the silver, with her virgin hue ? {Takes up silver 

casket. Reads ^ 
** Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." {Re- 
flects:) 
As much as he deserves ? Pause there, Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand. 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady. 
As much as I deserve ! Why, that's the lady. 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
In graces and in quaUties of breeding ; 



42 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

But more than these, in love I do deserve. 

What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ? 

Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold. ( Puts down 

silver and takes up golden casket. Reads.) 
" Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
Why, that's the lady ; all the world desires her. 
From the four corners of the earth they come 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
Is't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation 
To think so base a thought ; it were too gross 
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd, 
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold ? 
Oh, sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
Was set in worse than gold. 
Deliver me the key ; 
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may I 

PoR. (with a sigh of relief, which she strives to conceal, takes 

a key from her girdle and gives it to a Page, who delivers 

it ceremoniously to Morocco). There, take it, Prince, 

and if my form lie there 
Then I am yours. 

{He unlocks the golden casket^ 

MoR. Oh, hell 1 what have we here ! 

A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll. I'll read the writing. (Reads.) 
** All that glitters is not gold. 

Often have you heard that told. 

Many a man his life hath sold 

But my outside to behold. 

Gilded tombs do worms enfold : 

Had you been as wise as bold. 

Young in limbs, in judgment old. 

Your answer had not been inscroll'd. 

Fare you well ; your suit is cold." 

RING lights down for change* 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 43 

Cold, indeed ; and labor lost. 

Then, farewell heat and welcome frost. 

{Descending steps. Portia rises as he approaches^ Portia, 
adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 

To take a tedious leave ; thus losers part. ( With a low how 
the Prince withdraws^ followed by his suite ^ up r.) 
PoR. {who watches him well out of sight ; gaily). A gentle 
riddance. Draw the curtains, go. (Pages draw cur- 
tains and go offi.^ 

(To Nerissa, as she throivs an a7'm about her.) Let all of his 
complexion choose me so. 

Exit gaily down l. 7vith Nerissa, 

LIGHTS down. 

CHANGE set. 

Scene II. — A narrow street in Venice. Same drop as that 
used for Scene 2 of Act II. 

Enter Salarino and Salanio in conversation^ from r. 

LIGHTS f«n tip. 

Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail ; 
With him is Gratiano gone along, 
And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. 

Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 

Salar. He came too late — the ship was under sail; 
But there the Duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica. 
Besides, Antonio certify'd the Duke 
They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 

Salan. I never heard a passion so confus'd. 
So strange, outrageous and so variable 

As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : {Imitating Shvlock.) 
" My daughter 1 Oh, my ducats ! Oh, my daughter I 
Fled with a Christian ? Oh, my Christian ducats 1 



44 THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 

Justice ! the law I my ducats and my daughter ! " 
Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 

Salar. Marry, well remember'd. 

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, who told me that 
Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrack'd on the narrow 
seas, the Goodwins, I think they call the place — a very 
dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall 
ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest 
woman of her word. 

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as 
ever knapp'd ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept 
for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without 
any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, 
that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio — oh, that I had 
a title good enough to keep his name company ! 

Salar. Come, the full stop. 

Salan, Ha? what say'st thou? Why, the end is he 
hath lost a ship. 

Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses ! 

Salan. Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross 
my prayer ; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. 

Enter Shylock, r., i7i a state of intense excitement. Salanio 
and Salarino/^j-j- to l. 

How now, Shylock ? What news among the merchants ? 

Shy. {ate). You knew — none so well, none so well as 
you — of my daughter's flight. 

Salar. (railing). That's certain; I, for my part, knew 
the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 
was fledg'd; and then it is the complexion of them all to 
leave the dam. 

Shy. She is damn'd for it. 

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 

Shy, My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 

Salar. Tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had 
any loss at sea or no ? 

Shy, There I have another bad match ; a bankrupt, a 
prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 45 

beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart. Let him 
look to his bond. He was wont to call me usurer ; let him 
look to his bond. He was wont to lend money for a Chris- 
tian courtesy ; let him look to his bond. 

Salar. Why, I am sure if he forfeit thou wilt not take 
his flesh. What's that good for ? 

Shy. To bait fish withal ; if it will feed nothing else it 
will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me and hindered 
me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my 
gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my 
friends, heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am 
a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? Hath not a Jew hands, 
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with 
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the 
same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and 
cooled by the same summer and winter, as a Christian is ? 
If you prick us, do we not bleed ? If you tickle us, do we 
not laugh ? If you poison us, do we not die ? And if you 
wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the 
rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Chris- 
tian, what is his humility ? Revenge 1 If a Christian wrong 
a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example ? 
Why, revenge ! The villainy you teach me I will execute ; 
and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction. 

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third cannot 
be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew, 

Exeunt Salanio and Salarino at l. 

Enter Tubal at r. Shylock goes to meet him and comes to c. 
with him. 

Shy. How now. Tubal ? what news from Genoa ? Hast 
thou found my daughter ? 

Tubal. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 
find her. 

Shy. {sobbing between rage and grief). Why, there, there, 
there, there I A diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats 
in Frankfort 1 The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; 
I never felt it till now. Two thousand ducats in that ; and 
other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter were 



46 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

dead at my foot and the jewels in her ear ! Would she were 
hears'd at my foot and the ducats in her coffin ! No news 
of them ? Why so — and I know not what's spent in the 
search. Why, thou — loss upon loss ! The thief gone with 
so much, and so much to find the thief ; and no satisfaction, 
no revenge ; nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o' my 
shoulders ; no sighs but o' my breathing ; no tears but o' my 
shedding. 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Antonio, as I 
heard in Genoa — 

Shy. {eagerly). What, what, what? Ill luck, ill luck? 

Tub. — hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 

Shy. {raising his clenched hands to Heaven). I thank Cod, 
I thank God 1 {To Tubal.) Is it true, is it true ? ^ ^" 

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
wrack. 

Shy. {with hands on Tubal's shoulders). I thank thee, 
good Tubal ! Good news, good news. Ha ! ha ! Wliere ? 
In Genoa ? 

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one 
night, fourscore ducats. 

Shy. {cha7iging to rage). Thou stick'st a dagger in me i I 
shall never see my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sit- 
ting 1 Fourscore ducats I 

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my 
company in Venice that swear he cannot choose but break. 

Shy. {in wicked glee). I am very glad of it; L'U plague 
him ; I'll torture him ; I am glad of it. 

Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your 
daughter for a monkey. 

Shy. {sobbing in rage). Out upon herl Thou torturest 
me, Tubal. It was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I 
was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness 
of monkeys. 

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

RING lights down lot changfe* 

Shy. {7vith glee). Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, 
Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before. I 
will have the heart of him if he forfeit : for were he out of 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



47 



Venice I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, 
and meet me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our 
synagogue. Tubal. 

Exeunt, Tubal at r., and Shylock, in great excitement, at l. 

LIGHTS down, 

CHANGE set. 

Scene III. — Same set as Scene i of this Act. The stage is 
crowded with the followers of Portia and Bassanio and 
his friends. The curtain before the caskets is already 
raised, Portia is at c. Bassanio stands in front of her. 
At r. are Gratiano and Nerissa, in conversation half 
serious half jocose. 

LIGHTS i^A\ «p, 

Bass, {to Portia). I am enjoined by oath to observe 
three things : 
First, never to unfold to anyone 
Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage ; lastly, 
If I do fail in fortune of my choice. 
Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

PoR. To these injunctions everyone doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 

Bass. And so have I addressed me. Fortune now 
To my heart's hope I 

PoR. I pray you, tarry ; pause a day or two 
Before you hazard ; for in choosing wrong 
I lose your company ; therefore forbear a while. 
There's something tells me (but it is not love) 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself 
Hate counsels not in such a quality ; 
But lest you should not understand me well 
(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought), 
I would detain you here some month or two 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 



48 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

So will I never be ; so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
They have o'erlooked me and divided me ; 
One-half of me is yours, the other half yours — 
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, 
And so all yours. 

I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time • 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
To stay you from election. 

Bass. Let me choose ; 

For as I am I live upon the rack ; 
{All move away.) So let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

PoR. Away then. I am locked in one of them ; 
If you do love me you will find me out. (Bassanio goes to l. 

Portia turns toward Nerissa.) 
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 
{To a Page.) Let music sound while he doth make his 

choice. (Page goes off back. Music?) 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end. 
Fading in music. That the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
And wat'ry death-bed for him. 

(Bassanio mounts steps to caskets and examines them.) 

(A Songj whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself.) 

Tell me, where is fancy bred. 
Or in the heart, or in the head ? 
How begot, how nourished ? 

Reply, reply. 
It is engender'd in the eyes. 
With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 
Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 
I'll begin it — Ding, dong, bell. 

All. Ding, dong, bell. 

Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves ; 
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 49 

But, being season 'd with a gracious voice, 

Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 

What damned error but some sober brow 

Will bless it and approve it with a text. 

Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 

Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 

To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 

Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on 

To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 

Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee. 

(Portia covjers hevface with her hands.) 

Nor none of thee, thou stale and common drudge 
'Tween man and man ; but thou, thou meagre lead, 
Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught, 
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence. 
And here choose I ; joy be the consequence ! 

PoR. (rising erect). How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful thoughts and rash embrac'd despair. 
And shudd'ring fear and green-ey'd jealousy ! 

Oh, love ! {pressing both hands over her heart) be moder- 
ate, allay thy ecstasy, 
In measure rein thy joy, scant this excess ; 
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less. 
For fear I surfeit ! {Gives key to Page, who takis it to Bassa- 

NIO.) 

Bass, {opening casket). What find I here ? 

Fair Portia's counterfeit ! Here is the scroll, 
The continent and summary of my fortune. {Reads.) 
" You that choose not by the view. 
Chance as fair and choose as true 1 
Since this fortune falls to you, 
Be content and seek no new. 
If you be well pleased with this, 
And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
Turn you where your lady is 
And claim her with a loving kiss." 
A gentle scroll. {Descends steps and crosses quickly to Portia.) 
Fair lady, by your leave 



^o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

I come by note to give and to receive, 

As doubtful whether what I see be true, 

Until confirm 'd, sign'd, ratified by you. {Kisses her.) 

PoR. {moving away from him after a moment's pause to re- 
cover herself). You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I 
stand. 

Such as I am ; though for myself alone 

I would not be ambitious in my wish. 

To wish myself much better ; yet for you 

I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 

A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich ; 

That only to stand high in your account, 

I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends. 

Exceed account. But the full sum of me 

Is sum of something ; which, to term in gross. 

Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd : 

Happy in this, she is not yet so old 

But she may learn ; happier than this, 

She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 

Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 

Commits itself to yours to be directed, 

As from her lord, her governor, her king. 

Myself and what is mine to you and yours 

Is now converted ; but now I was the lord 

Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 

Queen o'er myself ; and even now, but now, 

This house, these servants and this same myself 

Are yours, my lord ; I give them with this ring {takes ring 
from herfiyiger^ ; 

Which when you part from, lose or give away. 

Let it presage the ruin of your love, 

And be my vantage to exclaim on you. {Places it on his 
hand.) 
Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words ; 

Only my blood speaks to you in my veins. 

But when this ring 

Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ; 

Oh, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead. 

Ner. {who, during the scene between Portia and Bassanio, 
has been following it with Gratiano /;/ a sort of pantomime 
imitation of the same, giving to Gratiano a ring as PoR- 



THE MERCHANT OF VENTCE, ^I 

TIA has given to Bassanio, now steps forward to l. g., with 
Gratiano a few paces behind her). My lord and laxly, it 
is now our time, 
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper. 
To cry good joy ; good joy, my lord and lady ! 

Gra. (r.). My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me. 
And when your honors mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bass. (l. c). With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Gra. I thank your lordship ; you have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid. {Giving his hand 

to Nerissa.) 
You lov'd, I lov'd ; for intermission 
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there ; 
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
For wooing here until I sweat again ; 
And swearing till my very roof was dry 
With oaths of love, at last — if promise last — 
\ got a promise of this fair one here 
To have her love, provided that your fortune 
Achieved her mistress. 

PoR. Is this true, Nerissa ? 

Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 

Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 

Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. 

Bass, Our feast shall be much honor'd in your marriage. 

Gra. {looking off, up l.). But who comes here ? Lorenzo 
and his infidel ? 
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio ? 

Enter Salanio, followed by Lorenzo a?id Jessica, /?w;z l. 
back over terrace. 

Bass, {going up). Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither ! 
If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome. {To Portia.) By your 
leave, 



52 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

I bid my very friends and countrymen, 

Sweet Portia, welcome. {Comi7ig doivn ; Jessica remains up L.) 

PoR. (c). So do I, my lord. 

They are entirely welcome. 

Lor. (l.). I thank your honor. For my part, my lord, 
My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
But meeting with Salanio by the way. 
He did entreat me past all saying nay 
To come with him along. 

Salan. (l. c). I did, my lord. 

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
Commends him to you. {Gives Bassanio a letter^) 

Bass, {to Salanio). Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. 

Salan. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
Nor well, unless in mind ; his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 

(Bassanio goes r. and opens letter^ 

Gra. (r.). Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 

(Nerissa joins Jessica ; Gratiano crosses to Salanio.) 

Your hand, Salanio ; what's the news from Venice ? 

How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 

I know he will be glad of our success ; 

We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 

Salan. 'Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost I 
PoR. {watching Bassanio's einoiion as he reads letter). There 
are some shrewd contents in yon' same paper 

That steal the color from Bassanio's cheek. 

Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world 

Could turn so much the constitution 

Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ? {Approaches 
Bassanio and places her hand on his shoulder.) 

With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself. 

And I must freely have the half of anything 

That this same paper brings you. 

Bass. Oh, sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ^ 3 

That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 

When I did first impart my love to you, 

I freely told you all the wealth I had 

Ran in my veins — I was a gentleman ; 

And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady, 

Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 

How much I was a braggart. When I told you 

My state was nothing, I should then have told you 

That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 

I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 

Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy. 

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, 

The paper as the body of my friend. 

And every word in it a gaping wound 

Issuing life-blood. {Turning to Salanio. Returning to c. 

with Portia.) But is it true, Salanio ? 
Have all his ventures fail'd ? (Salanio nods affirmation^ 

What, not one hit ? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, 
From Lisbon, Barbary and India? 
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks ? 

Salan. (l.). Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 
A creature that did bear the shape of man 
So keen and greedy to confound a man. 
He plies the Duke at morning and at night. 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state. 
If they deny him justice; twenty merchants. 
The Duke himself and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him, 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond. 

Jes. (coming doivn r. with Nerissa). When I was with 

him, I have heard him swear 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him ; and I know, my lord, 



54 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



If law, authority and power deny not, 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

PoR. (c). Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? 

Bass. (l. c). The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best condition 'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honor more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

PoR. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bass. For me, three thousand ducats. 

PoR. What, no more? 

Pay him six thousand and deface the bond ; 
Double six thousand and then treble that. 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife. 
And then away- to Venice to your friend ; 
For never shall you stay by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
To pay the petty debt twenty times over ; 
When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away I 
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day. 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer ; 
Since you are dear bought I will love you dear. 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

RING lights down for changfc^ 

Bass, (reads). " Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis- 
carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my 
bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and since in paying it it is impos- 
sible I should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, 
if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use 
your pleasure ; if your love do not persuade you to come, let 
not my letter." 

PoR. Oh, love ! Despatch all business and be gone 1 
Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
I will make haste ; but till I come again 
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 55 

Exeunt Portia and Bassanio up r., followed by Gratiano 
and Nerissa, leading Salanio, Lorenzo and Jessica, 
Pages and the entire train, 

UGHTS down. 

CHANGE set. 

Scene IV.— yi street in Venice. Same as that used for Scene 2 
in Acts Hand III. 

LIGHTS up. 

Enter Shylock, Salanio, Antonio and Okoiss.^ from r. 

Shy. (c). Gaoler, look to him ; tell not me of mercy. 
This is the fool that lent out money gratis ; 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Ant. {up R. c). Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond ; 
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs. 
The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
To come abroad with him at his request. 

Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak; 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool. 
To shake the hand, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
I'll have no speaking ; I will have my bond. 

Exit Shylock, l. 

Salan. (l.). It is the most impenetrable cur 
That ever kept with men. 

Ant. (c). Let him alone; 

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
He seeks my life ; his reasons well I know. 
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me ; 
Therefore he hates me. 



56 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Salan. I am sure the Duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law ; 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
Will much impeach the justice of the state ; 

RING ligfhts down for changfe. 

Since that the trade and profit of the city 
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go. 
These griefs and losses have so 'bated me 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! 

Exeunt, l. 

LIGHTS down, 

CHANGE set 

Scene V. — The home of Portia at Belmont. Lofty room 
with antique furniture. Large and massive ca?ved table 
up L. c, with huge, carved, straight-backed chair with 
heavy arms. Similar chairs about room, which is hung 
with tapestry. 

LIGHTS «p* 

(Portia is discovered at table with Nerissa leaning on back of 
her chair, and Balthazar standing before her. Lorenzo 
and Jessica are together down r. c.) 

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
You have a noble and a true conceit 
Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this honor, 
How true a gentleman you send relief. 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
1 know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 57 

PoR. I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now. 

This comes too near the praising of myself I ^ 

Therefore, no more of it ; hear other things, 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
The husbandry and manage of my house 
Until my lord's return. 
My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
So fare you well till we shall meet again. 

Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you. 

Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 

PoR. I thank you for your wish and am well pleas'd 
To wish it back on you ; fare you well, Jessica. 

Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo tip r. c. 

{As soon as they are 0^ Portia rises^ and sittmg on arm of 
her chair, speaks hurriedly to servant^ 

Now, Balthazar, 

As I have ever found thee honest, true. 

So let me find thee still. Take this same letter {gives him a 

letter), 
And use thou all the endeavor of a man 
In speed to Padua ; see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand. Doctor Bellario ; 
And look what notes and garments he doth give thee. 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
Unto the traject, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words. 
But get thee gone. I shall be there before thee. 
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 

Exit down l 

Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of ; we'll see our husbands 
Before they think of us. 

WARNctiftain, 



58 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Ner. Shall they see us ? 

PoR. They shall, Nerissa. I'll hold thee any wager, 

When n'e are both accoutred like young men, 

I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 

And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 

And speak, between the change of man and boy. 

With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps 

Into a manly stride {strides down r. with a mannish gait), and 
speak of frays 

Like a fine bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies {stroking an 
imaginary moustache with one hand ; other hand as if on 
hilt of sword) — 

How honorable ladies sought my love. 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 

I could not do withal ; then I'll repent, 

And wish, for all 'that, that I had not kill'd them. {Laugh- 
ing gaily:) 

But, come. {Giving her hand to Nerissa.) I'll tell thee all 
my whole device 

When I am in my coach, which stays for us 

At the park gate ; and therefore haste away. 

For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 

Exeunt hurriedly. 

RING quick curtain* 
QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT IV. 



Scene. — Court of Justice in the Ducal Palace at Venice. A 
lafge room with painted ceiling and walls. Along the l. 
wall a raised platform on which is the Duke's seat and 
those of the Council of Ve?iice. It is approached by half a 
dozen carpeted steps, the can>ed seats being placed against 
the walls like stalls in a church choir. In the R. wall of 
the room the entra?ices. Across the back is a barrier of 
carved wood, and behind is a crowd of the Venetian popu- 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 5^ 

lace in picturesque dress. Dfwn l. c. is a wide fiat-topped 
desk on which are books ^ and behind it, facing the audience, 
is seated the Clerk. Ttvo low broad-backed chairs are 
beside the table, and a stool Guards at door and up stage 
to keep populace in order. On table are bags of money. 
At the rise of curtain Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano and 
Salarino are already on the stage, down at extreme L., in 
conversation. Afiourish of trumpets, and the Duke enters 
with his train. As he crosses the stage all bow before him. 
He mounts the platform and seats himself, the Council tak- 
ing its place on either side of him. Gratiano and Salar- 
ino cross to R. 

LIGHTS full up- 

Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 

Ant. {stepping forward, facing Duke). Ready, so please 
Your Grace. 

Duke {to Antonio). I am sorry for thee ; thou art come 
to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, 
Incapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard 

Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd 
To suffer with a quietness of spirit 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

(Guard opens door at r.) 

Salan. He is ready at the door. He comes, my lord. 
Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 

(Antonio steps back beside Bassanio.) 

Enter Shylock. The Duke, studies him as he crosses to c, 
facing him. The populace push and crowd to see him. 



6o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

Duke. Shylock, the world thinks — and I think so, too — 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy maUce 
To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis thought 
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty. 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty 
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh), 
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses. 
That have of late so huddled on his back — 
Enough to press a royal merchant down 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shy. (c). I have possess'd Your Grace of what I purpose, 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond. 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me why I rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
Three thousand ducats ? I'll not answer that, 
But say it is my humor. Is it answer'd ? 
What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? - 
Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 
Some that are mad if they behold a cat. 
Now for your answer : 
As there is no firm reason to be render'd 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 
More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 

Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. . 6 1 

Shy. {to Bassanio). I am not bound to please thee with 

my answer. 
Bass. Do all m^n kill the things they do not love ? 
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 
Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 
Shy. What ! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee 

twice ? 
Ant. [placifig his hand on Bassanio's shoulder to restrain 
him). I pray you think — you question with the Jew ; 
You may as well go stand upon the beach 
And bid the main flood bate its usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise 
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do anything most hard 
As seek to soften that (than which what's harder ?) 
His Jewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you 
Make no more offers, use no further means, 
But, with all brief and plain conveniency, 
Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. 

Bass, {to Shylock). For thy three thousand ducats here 
is six. {Approaching desk and placing his hands on the 
bags of coin there.) 
Shy. (facing Bassanio, as he speaks slowly afid emphati- 
cally, tapping the bags with his knife, which he dra^vs from 
his girdle). If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 

Duke {to Shylock). How shalt thou hope for mercy, 

rend'ring none ? 
Shy. {facing the Duke). What judgment shall I dread, 
doing no wrong ? 
You have among you many a purchas'd slave 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts 
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burdens ? Let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 



62 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer, 

The slaves are ours. So do I answer you. 

The pound of flesh which I demand of him 

Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. 

If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 

There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 

I stand for judgment. Answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor 
Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
Come here to-day. 

(Guard enters and whispers to Salarino.) 

Salar. {stepping forward^. My lord, here stays without 
A messenger with letters from the doctor. 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters. Call the messenger. 

Exit Salarino at r. 

Bass, {both hands on Antonio's shoulders). Good cheer, 
Antonio ! What^ man ? Courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
Droops earliest to the ground, and so let me. 
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Salarino at r., showing in Nerissa, dressed like a law- 
yer's clerk. Nerissa crosses to Duke. 

Duke {to Nerissa). Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
^TLR. {at foot of steps ; bows). From both, my lord. Bella- 
rio greets Your Grace. {Presents a letter.) 

{During this scene^ while Duke reads letter, Shylock whetS his 
knife on the sole of his boot.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 63 

Bass. (l.). Why does thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 

Shy. (c). To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. 

Gra. (r.). Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can — 
No, not the hangman's axe — bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 

Shy. No ; none that thou hast wit enough to make. 

Gra. Oh, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog I 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men ; thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd and ravenous. 

Shy. {still whettitig his knife). Till thou canst rail the seal 
from off my bond {taps the bond at his belt with knife), 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. (Rises.) I stand here for law. 

Bass, {finishing letter). This letter from Bellario doth 
commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. 
{To Nerissa.) Where is he? 

Ner. He attendeth here hard by 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous welcome to this place. 

Exeunt Salarino and Gratia no at r. 

Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

(Duke passes letter to Clerk, who rises in his place behind 
table and reads.) 

Clerk. " Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt 
of your letter I am very sick, but in the instant that your 



64 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young 
doctor of Rome ; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him 
with the cause of controversy between the Jew and Antonio 
the merchant. We turned o'er many books together. He 
is furnish'd with my opinion, which, better'd with his own 
learning (the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend), 
comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up Your Grace's 
request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be 
no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation ; for I 
never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave 
him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better 
publish his commendation." 

Duke. You hear the learned Bellario what he writes ; 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

Re-enter Salarino and Gratiano, conducting Portia, dressed 
as a Doctor of Law, in red robe and cap. She crosses to 
Duke and mounts steps to take the hand he offers. 

Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 

PoR. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome ; take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court ? 

(Portia steps to seat at r. of table ^ c. Nerissa Places books on 
table ajid sits on stool.) 

PoR. (sits c). I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here and which the Jew ? 
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

(Shylock steps forward r. c. and faces Portia. Antonio at 

L. c.) 

Por. {to Shylock). Is your name Shylock ? 

Shy. Shylock is my name. 

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
{To Antonio.) You stand within his danger, do you not? 



ipg f I 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



M 



Ant. Ay ; so he says. 

PoR. Do you confess the bond ? 

Ant. I do. 

PoR. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that. 

PoR. (rising). The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd : 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown. 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings, 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this — 
That in the course of justice none of us 
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea, 
Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shy. My deeds upon my head. I crave the law. 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

PoR. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 

Bass, {stepping forward to table and showi?ig money bags. 
Portia gii^es him a quizzical look as he faces Shylock). 
Yes ; here I tender't for him in the court — 
Yea, twice the sum ; if that will not suffice, 
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er. 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. 

(Portia arches her eyebrows^ then turns calmly to Shylock to 
conceal the movement^ 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 



66 THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 

Wrest once the law to your authority ; 
To do a great right, do a little wrong ; 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

PoR. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree established ; 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 
And many an error, by the same example, 
Will rush into the state. It cannot be. 

Shy. (^gloating over Bassanio). A Daniel come to judg- 
ment ! Yea, a Daniel 1 
{Approaching Portia and kissing her robe.) Oh, wise young 
judge, how do I honor thee 1 
PoR. {to Shylock). I pray you, let me look upon the 

bond. 
Shy. {servilely takiftg it from his breast ; as he carefully hut 
eagerly unfolds it). Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, 
here it is. {Gives it to Portia and rubs his hands.) 
PoR. {taking it^ but addressing Shylock before looking at the 

bofid). Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 
Shy. {still rubbing his hatids). An oath, an oath, I have 
an oath in heaven. 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
No 1 not for Venice ! 

PoR. {slowly turns her eyes to the bond). Why, this bond 
is forfeit ; 
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 

Nearest the merchant's heart. {To Shylock.) Be merci- 
ful! 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shy. {quickly^ as Portia makes a movemefit to do so, prevent- 
ifig her). When it is paid according to the tenor. 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law ; your exposition 
Hath been most sound ; I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment ; by my soul, I swear 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me. I stay here on my bond. 

Ant. (l.). Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 67 

PoR. Why, then, thus it is. 

{To Antonio.) You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

(Antonio, in spite of Bassanio's tears^ opens the neck of his 

doublet^ 

Shy. Oh, noble judge ! Oh, excellent young man ! 

PoR. For the intent and purpose of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. 'Tis very true. Oh, wise and upright judge 1 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks 1 

PoR. {to Antonio). Therefore, lay bare thy bosom. 

(Antonio does so.) '^ 

Shy. Ay, his breast, 

So says the bond. Doth it not, noble judge ? 
(Pointing to words in the bond with point of his knife.) Near- 
est his heart. {Knife on the words.) Those are the 
very words. 
PoR. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
The flesh ? 

Shy. {taking a balance from his breast; movement of excite- 
ment in the populace and of disgust among other characters) . 
I have them ready. 
PoR. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 

Shy. {looking at bond). Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
PoR. It is not so expressed ; but what of that ? 
'Twas good you do so much for charity. 

Shy. {still examining bond). I cannot find it; 'tis not in 

the bond. 
PoR. {to Antonio). Come, merchant, have you anything 

to say "i 
Ant. But little ; I am arm'd and well prepar'd. 
Give me your hand, Bassanio. {Takes both Bassanio's 
ha?ids. The latter tries vainly to master himself. Portia 
watches them keenly.^ Shylock with impatience). Fare 
you well 1 
Grieve not that I have fall'n to this for you, 



68 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

For herein fortune shows herself more kind 

Than is her custom ; it is still her use 

To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 

To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 

An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 

Of such a misery does she cut me off. 

Commend me to your honorable wife. 

Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 

Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death. 

And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 

Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 

Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 

And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 

For if the Jew do cut but deep enough 

I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself, my wife and all the world, 
Are not with me esteem 'd above thy life. 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all. 
Here to this devil to deliver you. 

(Portia coughs and wipes her mouth with her handkerchief to 
conceal a smile.) 

Gra. I have a wife whom, I protest, I love. 

(Nerissa turns quite round to examine him as he speaks.) 

I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 

(Nerissa laughs and chokes to conceal it.) 

Shy. (aside). These be the Christian husbands ! I have 
a daughter — 
'Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! 
{To Portia.) We trifle time. I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
PoR. (Jo Shylock). a pound of that same merchant's 
flesh is thine ; 
The court awards it and the law doth give it. 



TBS MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



69 



Shy. Most rightful judge ! 

PoR. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast ; 
The law allows it and the court awards it. 

Shy. Most learned judge 1 A sentence — come, prepare. 

{Approaches Antonio with his knife in his hand. Antonio 
bares his breast. Portia steps between them^ 

PoR. Tarry a little. There is something else. {Pause of 
surprise^ 
Thts bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
The words expressly are, a pound of flesh. 
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are by the laws of Venice confiscate 
Unto the state of Venice. 

(Shylock falls back. Bassanio grasps Antonio by the 
shoulders. Gratiano and Salanio burst into laughter. 
The populace shows excitement and is calmed by Guards.) 

Gra. {imitating Shylock^s manner earlier in the scene). 
Oh, upright judge! {Mockingly to Shylock.) Mark, 
Jew — oh, learned judge I 
Shy. {dismayed; to Portia). Is that the law ? 
PoR. {to Shylock, as she turns over pages of a book Ner- 
ISSA gives her). Thyself shall see the act ; 
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 

Gra. {mockingly). Oh, learned judge 1 Mark, Jew — a 

learned judge I 
Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian go. 

Bass, {picking up bags). Here is the nloney. 
PoR. {paving him back). Stop 1 
The Jew shall have all justice — soft 1 no haste ; 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gra. Oh, Jew I an upright judge, a learned judge I 
PoR. {to Shylock). Therefore prepare thee to cut off the 
flesh. 



70 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more, 

But just a pound of flesh. If thou tak'st more 

Or less than a just pound — be it jDut so much 

As makes it light or heavy in the substance 

Or the division of the twentieth part 

Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn 

But in the estimation of a hair — 

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gra. a second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, infidel, I have thee on tlie hip. 

PoR. Why doth the Jew pause ? Take thy forfeiture. 

Shy. {to Bassanio). Give me my principal and let me go, 

Bass, {to Shylock). I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

PoR. {to Bassanio). He hath refus'd it in the open court. 
He shall have merely justice and his bond. 

Gra. a Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel I 
I thank thee, Jew, -for teaching me that word. 

Shy. {to Portia). Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Por. {to Shylock). Thou shalt have nothing but the for- 
feiture. 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it ! 
I'll stay no longer question. {Angrily starts to go to r.) 

Por. Tarry, Jew. 

(Shylock turns*) 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 

It is enacted in the laws of Venice {turning leaves of book)^ 

If it be prov'd against an alien 

That by direct or indirect attempts 

He seek the life of any citizen, 

The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 

Shall seize one-half his goods ; the other half 

Comes to the privy coffer of the state, 

And the offender's life lies in the mercy 

Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 

In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; 

For it appears by manifest proceeding. 

That, indirectly and directly too. 

Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



71 



Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehears 'd. 
Down, therefore and beg mercy of the Duke. 

{As Shylock is about to fall to his knees Gratiano seizes him 
by shoulders and holds him up.) 

Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself. 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 

Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. (Lets 
Srvlock fall to his knees?) 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. 
For half thy wealth it is Antonio's ; 
The other half comes to the general state, 
Which humbleness may drive into a fine. 

POR. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. 

Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that. 
You take my house when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life 
When you do take the means whereby I Hve. 

PoR. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 

Gra. {to Antonio). A halter gratis; nothing else, for 
God's sake ! 

Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court, 
To quit the fine for one-half of his goods 
I am content, so he will let me have 
The other half in use, to render it 
Upon his death unto the gentleman 
That lately stole his daughter. 
Two things provided more — that for this favor ' 
He presently become a Christian ; 
The other, that he do record a gift, 
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd. 
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 

Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

PoR. {to Shylock). Art thou contented, Jew? What 
dost thou say ? 

Shy. I am content. 



72 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



PoR. {to Clerk). Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. {rises from his knees). I pray you, give me leave to 
go from hence ; 
I am not well; send the deed after me 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

(Shylock turns to go offK.) 

Gra. {plucking him by the sleeve). In christening thou 
shalt have two godfathers ; 
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, 
To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font. 

Exit Shylock at r., hooted by crowd. 

Duke {rising ahd descending steps to Portia). Sir, I en- 
treat you home with me to dinner. 
PoR. {to Duke, as they cross stage together). I humbly do 
desire Your Grace of pardon ; 
I must away this night toward Padua. 
And it is meet I presently set forth. 

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

Portia and Duke salute ofie a?iother. Exeunt, at r., Duke 
and Council. The populace go off slowly at back, 
pushing and chaffing. Bassanio and Antonio, at l., ap- 
proach Portia, who is at c. Gratiano a?td Salanjo 
talk 7vith Nerissa, laho crosses to R. c. Portia covers 
her mouth with her ha?idkerchief as Bassanio approaches 
her, and struts a bit with a thumb in the arm-size of her 
robe. 

Bass. (l. c). Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 



n 



Ant. (l.). And stand indebted, over and above, 
In love and service to you evermore. 

PoR. (c). He is well paid that is well satisfied; 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
And therein do account myself well paid ; 
My mind was never yet more niiercenary. 
{To Bassakio, who eyes her curiously^ I pray you, know 

me when we meet again ; 
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. {Starts to go r.) 

Bass, {detaining her). Dear sir, of force I must attempt 
you further 
Take some remembrance of us as a tribute. 
Not as a fee ; grant me two things, 1 pray you — 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 

PoR. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
{To Antonio.) Give me {pauses as if seeking something to 
ask for ; sees his gloves) your gloves. 

(Antonio gives them with a laugh). 

I'll wear them for your sake, 
And for your love. {To Bassanio, as if suddenly seeing the 
ring she had given him in the previous act.) I'll take this 
ring from you. 

(Bassanio suddenly draws back his hand.) 

Do not draw back your hand ; Til take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bass. This ring, good sir— alas, it is a trifle. 
I will not shame myself to give you this. 

PoR. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. 

Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
And find it out by proclamation ; 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

PoR. {shrugging her shoulders). I see, sir, you are liberal 
in offers. 
You taught me first to beg, and now, methinks, 
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 



74 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Bass, (^frankly). Good sir, this ring was given me by my 
wife ; 
And when she put it on she made me vow 
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 

PoR. {curling her lij>). That 'scuse serves many men to 
save their gifts. 
And if your wife be not a mad woman. 
And know how well I have deserv'd this ring, 

WARN curtain. 

She would not hold out enemy forever 

For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! ( Waves her 
hand carelessly^ 

Exeunt Portia and Nerissa at r. 

Ant. My Lord* Bassanio, let him have the ring ; 
Let his deservings and my love withal 
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 

Bass, {gives ring to Gratiano). Go, Gratiano, run and 
overtake him ; 
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, 
Unto Antonio's house. Away ! make haste 1 

Exit Gratiano at r. 

{To Antonio.) Come, you and I will thither presently, 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. 

RING quick curtain* 

Exeunt, at r. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENTCE. ^5 



ACT V. 

Scene. — The garden of Portia's house at Belmont. At r., 
broad entrance to the house is visible, approached by a stately 
flight of steps and portico. Dim lights within. At back^ 
diag07ially across the upper half of stage, a terrace with a 
stone balustrade from which stone steps descend to stage. 
On the terrace, amidst tall urns of flowers , plays a foun- 
tain. 

(Down R. c, a lo7v stone seat on which Jessica is seated with 
Lorenzo at her feet. Music as the curtain rises and for a 
few seconds after it is up.) 

MOONLIGHT on set. 

MUSIC at tisc. 

Lor. The moon shines bright — in such a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
And they did make no noise — in such a. night, 
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents 
Where Cressid lay that night. 

Jes. In such a night 

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew. 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
And ran dismay'd away. 

LoR. In such a night 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont. 

Jes. And in such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
And ne'er a true one. 

LoR. ' And in such a night 

Did pretty Jessica, like a Uttle shrew. 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 



y6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come, 
But, hark ! {They listen^ I hear the footing of a man. 

(Lorenzo rises and Stephano appears on terrace?) 

Lor. {at c). Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 

Stephano. A friend. 

Lor. a friend ? What friend ? Your name, I pray you, 
friend ? 

Steph. Stephano is my name, and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont. 
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 

(Jessica rises and comes to c. to Lorenzo. Stephano comes . 

do2vn^ 

Lor. He is not^ nor we have not heard from him. 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 

Some welcome for the mistress of the house. {Gives his 
hand to Jessica. They go to l. and are about to enter, 
when the voice <2/' Launcelot is heard offK.) 
Laun. {withifi). Sola, sola! Wo, ha, ho! Sola, sola! 
Lor. Who calls ? ^ 

Enter Launcelot on terrace. 

Laun. Sola ! Did you see master Lorenzo and mistress 

Lorenzo ? Sola, sola ! 
Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 
Laun. Sola? Where? Where? 
Lor. Here. 
Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, 

with his horn full of good news. My master will be 

here ere morning. 

Exit on terrace at L. 

Lor. {to Jessica). Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect 
their coming. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



77 



And yet no matter — why should we go in ? 
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
Within the house your mistress is at hand. 
And bring your music forth into the air. 

Exit Stephano into house at l. Lorenzo and Jessica return 
to seat at l. c. 

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank 1 
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. 

(Jessica sits once more and Lorenzo sits beside her. Both gaze 
at the sky.) 

Look ! how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins. 
Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it. 

MUSIC outside* 

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive ; 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound 
Or any air of music touch their ears. 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand. 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
By the sweet power of music. Therefore, the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ; 
The man that hath no music in himself. 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 



7 8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils ; 
Let no such man be trusted. t 

Enter quietly on terrace, Portia and Nerissa. They pause at 
the top of the steps. Portia points to the light within the 
portico of the house.) 

PoR. That Hght we see is burning in my hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

(As she speaks Lorenzo rises and goes up stage with Jessica.) 

Lor. That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceive, of Portia. 

PoR. {to Nerissa). He knows me as the blind man knows 
the cuckoo — 
By the bad voice. 

Lor. {laughifig). Dear lady, welcome home. 

PoR. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
Are they returned ? {Descends with Nerissa, and gives her 
hand to Lorenzo, which he hisses.) 

Lor. Madam, they are not yet; 

But there is come a messenger before 
To signify their coming. 

PoR. Go in, Nerissa, 

Give order to my servants that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence ; 
Nor you, Lorenzo — Jessica, nor you. 

Exit Nerissa into house at l. 

LoR. (r.). Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet, 

TRUMPET sounds off R. 

We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. 

PoR. (c). This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, 
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day 
Such as a day is when the sun is hid. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 



79 



Enter Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano and their followers^ 
from R. As Bassanio descends the steps from terrace^ 
Portia hastens to greet him. Nerissa re-enters and goes 
hurriedly to Gratiano, with whom she converses up l. 
Lorenzo and Jessica stroll on terrace. 

You are welcome home, my lord. 

Bass, {embracing her). I thank you, madam ; give wel- 
come to my friend. {Presenting Antonio.) 
This is the man — this is Antonio — 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

PoR. {giving Ai^TOiiio her hand). You should in all sense 
be much bound to him, 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 

PoR. Sir, you are very welcome to our house. 
It must appear in other ways than words. 
Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. 

Gra. {whose conversation with Nerissa has become very ani- 
mated). By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong ; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 

PoR. {turning toward them). A quarrel, ho, already ? 
What's the matter ? 

Gra. {to Portia). About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me ; whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 

Upon a knife, " Love me, and leave me not." {Comes down 
L. c.) 

Ner. {following him). What talk you of the posy or the 
value ? 
You swore to me when I did give it you 
That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
And that it should lie with you in your grave. 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths. 
You should have been respective and have kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk ! No, Heaven's my judge, 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. 

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth — 
A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed boy. 



8o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

No higher than thyself ; the judge's clerk ; 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ; 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

PoR. (c, to Gratiano). You were to blame — I must be 
plain with you — 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 

(Bassanio at R. c. conceals his hand^ 

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 

Never to part with it. {Tunis to Bassanio.) And here he 

stands. 
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it, 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. {Turning back to Gratiano.) 

Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief ; 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bass, {aside). Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gra. {to Portia). My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, 
Deserv'd it, too ; and then the boy, his clerk. 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine. 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

PoR. {to Bassanio). What ring gave you, my lord ? 

Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault 
I would deny it. {Holding out his hand) But you see my 

finger 
Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. 

PoR. Even so void is your false heart of truth 1 
By Heaven, I will ne'er come in your sight 
Until I see the ring. {Goes up stage r. c, holding up the 
hand on which is the ring) 

Ner. {following Portia l. c, with same business). Nor I 
in yours 
Till I again see mine. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 8i 

Bass, {following Portia on -9^., protesting). Sweet Portia, 
If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

POR. {coming down r. c, follozved by Bassanio, r.). If you 
had known the virtue of the ring, 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honor to retain the ring, 
You would not then have parted with the ring. 
What man is there so much unreasonable, 
If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; 
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. 

Bass. No, by mine honor, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it but a civil doctor, 
Even he that had held up the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
I was enforced to send it after him. 
I was beset with shame and courtesy. 
My honor would not let ingratitude 
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, 
And by these blessed candles of the night. 
Had you been there I think you would have begged 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

Por. {going up stage ^ r. c, accompanied by Nerissa, l. c, 
followed by Bassanio, r., and Gratiano, l.). Let not 
that doctor e'er come near my house ; 
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you. 
I'll not deny him anything I have. 

{Up stage she and Nerissa compare rings before tumifig to come 
do7i>n, still follo7vcd by Bassanio and Gratiano.) 

Ner. Nor I his clerk ; therefore be well advised 
How you do leave me to mine own protection. 



82 THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 

{As they come down^ Antonio steps from the extreme r., where 
he has watched the scene^ to R. c, between Portia and 
Bassanio.) 

Ant. {to Portia)* I am the unhappy subject of these 

quarrels. 
PoR. {to Antonio, pausing at c). Sir, grieve not you; 

you are welcome, notwithstanding. 
Bass. (r.). Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong, 
And in the hearing of these many friends 
I swear to thee, even by thine fair eyes, 
Wherein I see myself — 

Por. (c). Mark you but that 1 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
In each eye, one. Swear by your double self, 
And there's an oath of credit. 

Bass. , " Nay, but hear me. 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Ant. (r. c, to Portia). I once did lend my body for his 
wealth. 
Which but for him that had your husband's ring 
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

PoR. {to Antonio). Then you shall be his surety. Give 
him this, 
And bid him keep it better than the other. {Takes ring from 
herfnger and gi^.'es it to Antonio.) 
Ant. {passing the fing to Bassanio). Here, Lord Bassa- 
nio, swear to keep this ring. 
Bass, {takes the ring and places it o?i his hand; then stands 
amazed, looki7ig from ring to Portia and back again. He 
moves to R. c. Antonio goes r., accompanying this busi- 
ness. Nerissa, at L. c, has given her ring to Gratiano 
at L.). By Heaven ! it is the same I gave the doctor. 
Portia {falling on her knees in simulated tears). I had it 

of him ; pardon me, Bassanio. 
Ner. {imitating Portia's business). And pardon me, my 
gentle Gratiano ; 
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
Did give me this. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



83 



Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 

In summer, when the ways are fair enough. 
PoR. {rising ; laughing). You are all amaz'd. 

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure. {Gives letter to 
Bassanio.) 

It comes from Padua, from Bellario. 

There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 

Nerissa there, her clerk. {Seriously giving both ha?ids to An- 
tonio.) 

Antonio, you are welcome ; 

And I have better news in store for you 

Than you expect; unseal this letter soon. {Gives him a 
letter) 

There you shall find three of your argosies 

Are richly come to harbor suddenly. 

(Antonio goes r. to read letter) 

Bass, {to Portia). Were you the doctor and I knew you 

not ? {Embraces her) 
Gra. {to Nerissa). Were you the clerk and yet I knew 

you not ? {Embraces her) 
Ant. {approaching Portia). Sweet lady, you have given 

me life and living ; 

WARN curtain. 

For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 

Por. It is almost morning ; 

And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in. 
And charge us there upon inter'gatories, 
And we will answer all things faithfully. 

Exeunt slowly into house as curtaifi falls, Portia betiveen 
Bassanio and Antonio, Gratiano and Nerissa, Lor- 
enzo and Jessica, following. 

RING slow curtain. 
CURTAIN. 



NEW COMEDIES* 



BACHELOR HALL. 

cAn Original Comedy in Three (Acts* 
By RACHEL E. BAKER and ROBERT MELVILLE BAKER, 

AUTHORS OF "MR. BOB," "FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY," "THE CHAPERON," "A 

KING'S DAUGHTER," "HER PICTURE," "NO MEN WANTED," 

" BLACK MAGIC," " AN AWKWARD SQUAD," ETC. 

Eight males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior, the 
same for all three acts. A clever piece, clean, bright, interesting, and. sure to 
make a " hit." Every part a sood one. Pinkerton Case, an amateur detective, 
is a great part, and a sure laugh producer. Ii-ish and negro comedy. Strongly 
recommended. Can be played only on payment of an author's royalty of $5.00 
for each performance. Plays a full evening. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 



CHARACTERS: 

The Hon. Geoffry Myrtleton, Congressman from the Ninth 

District . . . . ; Leading Comedy 

Elisha B^^ss^ET I -^^Z/^^^eton's constituents from liambletown Character 

:Es big:^ Mi£.REDiiH, acting under sealed orders Juvenile 

Pinkerton Case, an amateur detective Eccentric Comedy 

Veke Lee, an amateur actor and author of the " Fatal Shot " Juvenile 

J AHi^ER, the butler at Bachelor Hall Negro Comedy 

O'RouiiKE, a policeman Irish Comedy 

Betty V m^ce, Myrtleto7i's ward - Soubretfe 

Polly Reynolds, an amateur actress Soubrette 

Mrs. Van Styne, who has dramatic aspirations Character 

Claire, her daughter who has not Character 



SYNOPSIS: 

Act I. —The living room at Bachelor Hall. The great trunk mystery. 

Act II. — The same. The fatal shot. " Enjoy yourself." 

Act III. — The same once more. Pinkerton Case. The highest bidder. 



IN HONOR BOUND. 

cA Thama, in One cAd, 
By SYDNEY GRUNDY. 

Two males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, simple. This admi- 
rable little play, condensed from alive-act comedj', is a giant among one-act 
pieces. It jirovides for its actors a Avholly exceptional opportunity for the dis- 
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PRICE J5 CENTS. 



NEW PLAYS* 



BAR HAVEN. 

(A Comedy in Three c/lds* 
By GORDAN V. MAY, 

AUTHOR OF " AT BAXDOM BTJX," ETC. 

Six males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors and an 
exterior, not difficult. Plays two hours. An excellent piece, cleverly mingling 
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variety of good parts of nearly equal opportunity. Admirably suited for ama- 
teur performance, and strongly recommended. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 



CHARACTERS: 

Captain Hiram Hopper, an old fisherman. 

Hardy Stone, his helper. With ambition to he something better. 

Leo. Bra.dl,ey, in search of an heir. , 

Gideon Graham, a wealthy rascal. 

Rev. John Wesley Wiggins, parson at Bar Haven. 

Cy Brackett, who is fishing for fish and Arbella. 

Mks, Wardell, of the " Marior." 

Florence Wardell, Jier daughter. 

Kate Wardell, who comes into her own. 

Spray Hopper, the captain's daughter who laughs at love. 

Arbella Wortendyke, between the devil and the deep sea. 



SYNOPSIS: 

Act I. — Home of Captain Hopper. Christmas eve. 
Act II. — On Beacon Hill. The glorious fourth of July. 
Act III. — Parlor in "The Manor." "And he brought the good ship 
safely in." 



THE WRONG PACKAGE. 

c/1 Comedy in One cAd* 

FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY. 

By HELEN SHERMAN GRIFFITH, 

AUTHOR OF " THE SCARLET BONNET," '* THE WRONG MISS MATHER," ETC. 

Four female characters. Costumes modern ; scene a phiin interior. Plays 
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PRICE \5 CENTS. 



NEW PLAYS. 



Mrs. Briggs of the Poultry Yard 

c/l Comedy in Three <Acis* 
By EVELYN GRAY WHITING, 

AHTHOR OF " SIX KLEPTOMANIA.CS," " GONE ABROAD," " DECEPTION'S WEB," 
"NO ADMITTANCE," ETC. 

Four male, seven female characters. Scene, an easy interior, the same for 
all three acts ; costumes, modern and homely. A doniestic comedy of the school 
of the celebrated " Mrs. "NViggs of the Cabbage Patch," to Avhom and to whpse 
transactions, however, it bears no other relation whatever. Like that work it is, 
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Christian Science, looking steadfastly at the " bright side" of human affairs. 
Mrs. Briggs is an admirable part, full of original humor and quaint sayings, 
and all the characters are full of opportunity. Simply but effectively con- 
structed, and written Avith great humor. Plays about two hours. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 

CHARACTERS: 

Mrs. Briggs A woman of btisiness 

Ralph \ 

iL"v"L • • • • "er/amUy 

Melissa J 

Silas Green ' '^A near relation" 

Mr. Lee A wealthy neighbor 

Virginia Lee His daughter 

Daisy Thornton Ber friend 

Mrs. O'Connor With no liking for goats 

Mandy Bates Whose tongue loill stumble 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — At Mrs. Briggs' cottage. Mrs. Connor's pig. Seeking his fortune. 
" Stretchers." Love and cold cabbage. Merely ornamental. Farewell. On 
instalments. A stern parent. " I shall wait for him if I have to wait a hun- 
dred years." Disinherited. 

Act II. — In winter quarters. A cheerful view. The new boarder. A long 
silence. Silas and the chairs. A widow in leap year. Poultry raising. Silas 
agrees. The Christmas clothes-horse. A borrowed Christmas. More Santa 
Claus than one. A great surprise. Tlie hatching maoliine. 

Act III. — Mrs. Briggs' poultry-yard. Jim and Daisy. Pumping Virginia. 
The rain-barrel. Not her father's daughter. An old story. A wedding while 
you wait. Silas' business ideas. A stuttering bride. A strange discovery. 
Ralph's father. The " hundred years " expire. 



CARROTY NELL. 

c/1 Farce in Two c/lds* 
By THACHER ROWLAND GUILD, 

author of " MY COUSIN TIMMY," " THE CLANCY KIDS," ETC. 

Fifteen female characters. Scene, an easy interior ; costumes, modern. A 
whimsical little piece, written for the same people— the Hope St. High School, 
Providence — as this author's previous popular plays. Full of extravagant hu- 
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life of the Orphan Asylum, conducts a revolt against certain observances in the 
routine of that establishment, with very funny results. Very vivacious and 
full of life. 

PRICE J5 CENTS. 



RECENT NOVELTIES* 



The Scroggins Divorce Case 

c/l SMock Tnal in One cAci. 
By O. E. YOUNG, 

AUTHOR OF " THE STRIPED SWEATER," " POPPIKG BY PROXY," " INTERVIEW- 
ING A GRANGER," " THE REAL, THING," ETC. 

Seven male, five female characters, and supers for Jury. Scenery unim- 
portant ; may be given on a platform. Costumes, modern and eccentric. Plays 
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of humorous rustic characters, and provided with a dramatic" snapper " bring- 
ing the entertainment to a very satisfactory conclusion. As usual in such en- 
tertainments, there is a chance for local hits and points in speech of counsel, 
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the demand now tends toward a complete entertainment rather than toward a 
skeleton piece to be amplified with local matters, and such is here provided. 

PRICE 25 CENTS, 



CHARACTERS: 

Judge Pompous, of the Superior Court, mindful of the dignity of the law. 

Kesolute Scroggins, plaintiff in a divorce case. 

'Squire Quirk, Mrs. Scroggins^ counsel, always ready to object. 

Eliphalet Scroggins, the defendant, and Mrs. Scroggins' husband. 

Pray "Wright, a pretended minister, better known as " Slick Jim." 

Sam Simple, a half-ioitted farm hand. 

Polly Pry, Mrs. Scroggins' mother, and very deaf. 

Melinda Meddle, aii old maid, but still waiting. 

Sally Scroggins, Mr. Scroggins' sister. 

Martha Snapper, a colored scrub-woman. 

Algernon Styles {Dick Keene), a detective disguised as a dude boarder. 

Christopher Quiz, foreman of the jury. 

Also Supers to fill out the jury. 



SUNSET. 

A Comedy in One Ad* 
By JEROME K. JEROME. 

Three male, three female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, a single 
pretty interior. An admirable bit of pathos, dramatically conceived, ;»nd 
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rably for amateurs, few of whom are superior to such a crutch. Plays fifty 
minutes. 

PRICE J5 CENTS. 



NEW COLONIAL PLAYS. 



THE 

Girls of Seventeen Seventy-Six 

<A Colonial 2>ama in Three cMcis* 

FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY. 

By DORA ADELE SHOEMAKER, 

AUTHOR OF "A FIGHTING CHA>-CE," ETC. 

Fourteen female characters, and supernumeraries. Scenes, two interiors 
and two exteriors ; costumes, tliose of the Colonial period. A strong and stir- 
ring play, touching lightly and adroitly upon certain minor historical points in 
the structure of its plot, but relying mainly upon purely imaginary but wholly 
characteristic and convincing incidents of love and minor politics for the in- 
terest of its story. Barbara's pretty love episode is ingeniously Avoven into tha 
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and adroitly to the spirit of patriotism, it is strongly recommended to Colonial 
Societies and other interested bodies as first-class material. Flays a full evening. 

PRICE y 25 CENTS. 

CHARACTERS. 

Madam Evelyn Mayfields . Wife of Colonel Mayfields of ye British Army 

Helen ) ; Ber Daughters 

Amanda j 

Barbara Steele " Bitter Stveet," her Niece 

Dolly Darrah The Friend of Barbara 

" Grandmere " Mayfields The mother of Colonel Mayfields 

HoNORA Drake ^ staunch Loyalist 

Anne Van Dresser The friend of Amanda 

Jacqueline Marie Valcartieb, A French-Canadian girl of fallen 

fortune • • Grandrnere's attendant 

Betsey Boss. 
Troubles 'k 

Chloe F Slaves 

Minerva f 

Dassy J 

Guests for the Sewing-Bee in Act I, and for the Ball in Act 111. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.— Philadelphia. In the garden at Madam Mayfields. Afternoon late 
in the month of May. , ^ 

Act II.— Scene I. At the old cabin. Sunset time. July Fourth. 

Scene 11. The home of Betsey Ross. A morning of early A utumn. 
Act in.— Trenton. The hall of the ballroom. Christinas night. 



SoLDffiRS Brave and Maidens Fair 

c/l Colonial Comedy in T'wo cMds* 
By T. H. DAVIES. 

Six male, two female character.'', and soldiers. Scene, an easy interior ; cos- 
tumes of the period. A clever and entertaining little piece depicting a stir- 
ring incident of the Revolution that might easily have happened even if , as is 
probably the case, it never did, history being notoriously undramatic. Very 
bright and perfectly actable. All the parts good and some of exceptional 
opportunity. Plays only an hour and a half or so, and so is well adapted to 
form part of a longer program. Strongly patriotic. 

PRICE J5 CENTS. 



Cf)e a^ilUam Wdixxtn Ctiition 
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INIiAMAtt ^^y ^^ ^^^^ Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
inUviil Al\ Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

MADY ^TIIADT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
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